#area x sandor

[just-some-random-blogger]

Edge Of Ever After | 2

Part 1 2 3

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, POV shifts!, mentions/depictions of pregnancy/miscarriage/mensuration/the likes, enemies to lovers, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: about time i posted the next part here on tumblr this is originally posted on ao3

I gag as I watch maester Yannick swirl around a flask of my urine by the window. He holds it by the light and I have to look away as he inspects it.

"I wouldn't hold my breath, maester," I mutter as the man heads towards his desk.

"Of course not. You're doing it for me," he says as he places the sample down and scribbles on parchment, "now. Any cravings, besides the obvious strawberry pie one."

I suck in a deep breath before sighing, "no. None at all."

Maester Yannick turns to me and squints, "any physical symptoms? Mood swings? Sore breasts?"

I lightly clear my throat and shake my head, "none."

He turns back to his journal and writes something. He takes a moment before asking, "when was the last time you coupled?"

I wipe my face and buzz my lips, "...10 days?"

He chuckles, "well that explains it."

"E-... Explains what?"

"Why he's so much of a hound lately," he closes his journal with a thud, "nasty temper that one-- but what do you expect from a man who drinks wine like water?"

I lick my lips and pick at my nails.

"Pah, don't worry," he waves me off, "you married a grump. He was grumpier before," he raises a brow, "and I didn't have to be there to know it."

Maester Yannick walks over to me, grabs my shoulders and nods, "now. My learned self deduces you are probably in the early stages of childbearing." He raises a finger, "that being said, you have had issues with your moon cycle before."

The old man releases me, only to push me towards the door. I look at him in panic as he seems not to want to continue what he was going to say.

"My dear," he opens the door, "my advice is to simply wait."

"Wait?!" I pull away from him to face him, "what does that mean?"

"It means just go about your day. Don't think about this because we cannot be certain of a consensus. Go to the festival in the town. Bring your dogs. Bring your husband," he motions to the open door, "make merry. It's good for your health, and for whatever life you could possibly - if the gods will it - be carrying."

Maester Yannick effectively kicks me out of his office after that. 

He was horrible with that news, and rather vague. I don't know if I should cry, be angry, or be sad. Or happy? Should I be happy? Well... I don't know what I am.

I find myself recounting everything our maester told me as I walk down the hallway. When I make my way to the living area, I am greeted by 3 cold snouts of 3 pups that were getting too big to be called that in my opinion.

I smile at them and head towards the settee. I sit down and grab the ball I left there, throwing the thing into the hall, watching the dog siblings clamour after it. I continue to do this and only stop whenever there's someone passing by.

At some point, in my absentmindedness, I throw the ball too hard and it hits the end of the hall, bouncing off into the other. I watch the dogs chase after it and sequentially have to chase after them.

Seeings as the pups were great retrievers, I was expecting them to meet me halfway in the hall as I followed. When they don't, I call out to them with concern.

"Go on," a gruff voice says, "your mam's calling you lot."

I reach the end of the hall and see Sandor shooing away the three beasts by the door to his office. I smile at him as he growls to intimidate them; the dogs only bark back and wag their tails.

"Let the poor man go," I say as I walk over.

Sandor looks up at me. I chuckle as I watch his annoyed expression soften.

He purses his lips and steps forward, "they don't listen to me."

"They do," I cross my arms, "they just want to play.'

"Then they clearly don't listen to me," he corrects.

I shrug, "they do."

He rolls his eyes and places a hand on his hips, "did you want to go to the festival? The townsfolk have been fucking yapping to me about it. They want to see you."

I tighten my arms around me as I think about what Yannick said again.

Sandor's eyes dart down, landing on my chest. His nose twitches and he clears his throat as he looks away.

"I want to go but I..." I hesitate.

It catches Sandor's attention and makes him look back at me.

"I have something to tell you."

His brows furrow, "what is it?"

Lilac begins to bark loudly. It makes both of us turn to her and shush her out of instinct. She barks some more just to drive her point then shakes her floppy ears.

Sandor, finally having enough, picks up Lilac, and she immediately stops barking. He makes a face at the dog as she lolls her tongue out, clearly happy to be finally be carried.

I giggle and pet her head, "such a pampered princess."

The Hound side eyes her.

It's not long until Rose and Sage are barking up their protests. The Hound has no choice but to carry three pups in his arms.

I chuckle as I watch Sage make a fuss, like always. He liked having his front paws on Sandor's shoulder, and so he fussed until he got what he wanted. Sandor cradled the two girls in his arms.

"You were saying?" mutters my husband, pretending to be more annoyed than he actually was. 

I frown, "they don't like it when I carry them."

"You can't carry them," he adjusts his hold, "not all at once."

I huff and pet Rose on the head. She leans into my touch.

"Well?"

I look at Sandor, "hmm?"

"You have something to tell me," he repeats.

I weigh the options in my head. I decide on what to say and stop petting Rose in lieu of petting Lilac. I suck in a breath, "I want to buy a melon."

He knits his brows, "what?"

I stroke Sage on the back and he turns around only to look away a second later, "I want to buy a melon. At the festival."

"That's it?"

I nod and lie, "that's it."

He half shrugs, "then we'll get a melon. Why'd you say it like you meant to say you don't want to go with me?"

"I do!"

"You don't want to go-"

"I WANT TO GO WITH YOU!"

He presses his lips together. He is unable to hold back his chuckle but then wipes off his grin, and shrugs, "so? What's the problem?"

"It's just..." I think of an excuse to cover up my lie, "I feel bad that you carried that pumpkin all the way here from the market."

Sandor raises his brows. He looks disgusted. His lips twitch, "I carried a cow once, you know that?"

I blink at his words and debate its truth.

"Look," he rocks the pups in his hands, "three fucking wee cows right now."

I break into a laugh.

He looks like he's about to set the pups down but he stops himself when he sees how they look like they're about to doze off. He sighs, "we're not bringing these mutts."

He grumbles all the way to their dog bed where he gently puts them down.

I babble about why I wanted a melon to Sandor all the way to the festival to continue making my agitation over what I really wanted to tell him subside. We decided to walk because I said I wanted to pick flowers on the way, even though the truth was... I wanted the travel to the festival to be longer.

The festival was a harvest event where the folks celebrated their crops. They held some contests for their livestock and their plants, and they also did pantomime and jigs. At least that's what I could remember from the little memory I had of it as a child.

"Oh, look!" I point to a flower, "that looks beautiful."

Sandor sighs as I rush towards a large flower. He shakes his head and places his hands on his hips as he follows after me, "love, at this point, we're not going to get to the festival. You keep heading the other way."

I pluck the flower and bring it into the small bouquet I had in my hand. I looked at my arrangement and decided it was too... yellow for it.

I shake my head and walk towards Sandor, "too yellow." 

He looks down as I hand it to him. He raises his brows, "what do you want me to do?" He takes the flower and makes a face, "paint it?"

"Mmmmmm.... maybe you can-"

A scream of terror cuts me off.

My heart drops and immediately, Sandor pulls me behind him. He places his hand on his scabbard, glad to never leave the house without steel.

There is a rustle by the foliage.

He says over his shoulder, "step back."

I do so without question.

It doesn't take long until there's a running sound getting closer. Quickly, a woman, ragged and panting, emerges from behind the trees.

"HELP!"

Sandor is on his guard.

She was being pursued by a woodland monster. I was mortified to see it and was ready to run back home.

Sandor chuckles when he sees how tiny it was. He screams to taunt the beast and draws it away from me and the woman. Sure enough, the thing begins to head towards him and, in truth, I'm a bit concerned by how easily he killed it and how... happy he looked to do so.

Sandor sheathes his sword without wiping it off and head towards me. He looks at me with concern, "are you alright?"

I stare at him, wondering about the damage killing so many monsters was doing to him.

Sandor looks to the ground and picks something up. He takes my hand and I look down to see him placing the flowers I picked back into my hold. I hadn't even realized I dropped them. It was at this moment I was snapped back into reality. There was a woman being chased just a few seconds ago.

I turn and see the said person, clutching her chest as she caught her breath. I walk towards her, "are you hurt?"

Sandor makes sure to keep me behind him as we approach her.

She gasps for air twice before turning to me to shake her head, "no..." she pants, "but I am thirsty."

I turn to Sandor, who looks at me for a few seconds then her. He tilts his head, "why were you in the woods?"

"Sandor," I scold for not immediately offering to give her water.

"I was trying to forage food," she sighs, "I thought it was safe enough to do that now. Clearly I was wrong "

I nudge Sandor on the rib. He sighs, "you want some water?"

She nods quickly.

He looks at me and I smile at him. I turn to the woman, "my husband and I would be glad to give you some." 

She sighs in relief, "thank you."

Sandor did not once take his eyes off the woman, not even when I nudged him with my elbow for glaring.

Lorena was her name. I sat next to her on our bench in our front yard, watching as she finished an entire ewer of water.

She sets her cup down on the space between us with a sigh. I smile at her when she turns to me. She wipes her lips on her sleeve, "thank you kindly, lady."

"You're welcome."

"Alright, you had your drink," Sandor says, "time to go."

I make a face as Sandor comes to Lorena's side, "Sandor."

Lorena stands up, "may I say one thing before I go, Lady Clegane."

My forehead wrinkles. I stand as well, "of course. And pay no mind to my husband. You may stay to catch your breath if you'd like."

The Hound scoffs, "then she'll ask for a meal, and a place to stay."

I nearly roll my eyes but decide to cover my annoyance with a smile.

Lorena gives me a solemn expression, "may I speak freely?"

For a second, I wonder why she had to preface with this, but I disregard the thought and nod, "of course."

"You have a monster with you, large and viscous."

My expression drops.  I part my lips, "... I beg your pardon?"

Lorena turns to Sandor. I am flabbergasted by her offensive insinuation 

My eyes dart between the two. My husband seems wholely unfazed by the horrendous accusation, which makes it all the more unbearable for me. I do not get the opportunity to speak however.

"Your endeavor to purge the forest is futile, so long as she lives like this," Lorena tells Sandor.

I chuckle dryly, "I BEG your pardon?!"

She turns to me and knits her brows. She looks worried and shakes her head, "you must get cleansed by a spellcaster who has the same or more power than the one who cursed your family, Lady Clegane."

I freeze at her words. My brows knit. I blink rapidly, stunned by what she was saying now.

Sandor narrows his eyes, "what curse?"

Lorena turns back to Sandor, as if in disbelief of his question. Regardless, she clarifies, "the curse of the forest, of Brown Wood; the curse of her clan."

I gulp at her words. I slap a hand to my mouth, suddenly queasy. A bitter taste grows as the woman continues.

"I grew up in Essos. My mother was a soothsayer. She could read your future from a look of your palm. I inherited but a fraction of her gift, which is why I cannot help you myself."

"Essos?" Sandor scoffs, "let me guess, you're from Volantis?"

Lorena nods, "I am."

The Hound cackles, throwing his head back as he did.

I feel bile rise up my throat.

Lorena looks disgruntled as Sandor calms and shakes his head. "All right, wench," he grabs her arm, "get out of he--"

I run towards a nearby bush and begin to retch. Sandor immediately releases Lorena and dashes to my side.

Lorena looks at me and mutters something foreign under her breath. 

I vomit a good amount before straightening up, weakly leaning into Sandor as he pulls me into his chest. My head is pounding. I hear him repeat my name as he wipes my lips with his sleeve.

"Your monster is fighting back now that it's been recognized," Lorena says with pity.

Sandor enraged, "fuck off! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

She is taken aback, "but I-"

"I'VE HEARD ENOUGH FROM YOUR CUNT MOUTH!"

Lorena flinches and slowly walks back before ultimately running away.

"N-no-" I turn to her, "wa-it!"

Sandor pulls me back, circling around to block me. He clutches my cheeks, lowering himself to examine my face, "are you alright?"

I shake my head in an attempt to push him away. I, in fact, push him, but he doesn't budge, "you scared her off, Sandor! She had more to say-"

"I'd have severed her tongue for it," he quips, placing his hands on my shoulder, pushing me back, "we're going inside."

"But-" but I can only walk in the direction he's dragging me.

Sandor causes as scene when we get inside. He sits me down and starts shouting, "SOMEONE GET FUCKING WATER FOR THE DAMNED LADY OF THE HOUSE, YOU LAZY SHITS."

"Sandor," I whimper, wiping my face as I watch him pace around, demanding attention.

He walks towards me, kneeling by the chair I was sat on. Right on cue, the patter of paws fill the air and three barking pups come running over. Two of them nip at Sandor's clothing, eager for his attention. One of them, Lilac, barks at me, loudly requesting to be picked up.

I huff and chuckle at the creatures, shushing them while picking up Lilac, "don't upset your father more than he already is."

Sandor's heart skips when he hears that. Aye, it was not the first time he's heard it but it doesn't make it any less exciting for him. He looks over his shoulder and eyes the pups, "shut it."

Rose howls and sticks out her tongue.

"Stupid bitch," he grumbles.

I frown, "Sandor."

He clears his throat.

A servant comes with an ewer and a cup. I'm about to say thank you, but Sandor barks out to call Maester Yannick, and so the poor thing scurries off to do just that.

"That's enough," I scowl at him, "I'm fine."

Sandor's face sours, "you fucking vomited-- fine my arse."

"You heard her," I sigh and cuddle with Lilac, "it's the curse reacting to-"

"You're not cursed," Sandor quips.

My eyes water.

A beat passes.

I watch Sandor's expression harden. At the same time, Sage begins his attempt to climb up the chair. Sandor moves his leg around when Rose begins to nip at ends of his trousers.

With a raised brow and an eye roll, Sandor picks both Sage and Rose, handing them over to me.

The reunited siblings begin to silently play with each other on my lap. Their legs kick my arms and chest but I could not care less.

"That cunt bitch was hired by Littlefinger to fuck with you," Sandor stands and peers down at me, "don't you see? She's conveniently from Volantis and can see monster remnants-- HA-- even I can do a better job than that."

I begin to feel my stomach sour again, my face scrunching in return. 

Sandor is flooded with concern. At the same time, the puppies begin to jump off me. He hisses, "gods," bending down to prevent the pups from injuring themselves.

The siblings chase each other around the room and sequentially find a toy to play with.

I take a deep breath, which thankfully helps to calm my stomach. I sigh, "I don't think so."

He looks at me.

"I think she sincerely wants to help."

He deflates his lungs. He calls my name again, "you're not-"

"You're forgetting I was there," I mutter, feeling my throat constrict, "someone came here to Brown Wood that day and unleashed this."

His brows knit tightly when I grab his hand. He kneels again when I tug him, bringing his palm to my side

"A monster didn't scar me, Sandor, a man did."

I feel him tighten his grip on my left hip.

My emotions best me.

Sandor doesn't move an inch as I cry into my hands. Something horrendous eats away at him. His hand tenses, but he decides - fuck it - and pulls me towards him. He rubs my waist as I wipe my cheeks.

I bring my arms around his shoulders, calming myself down with the warmth of him. He sighs where I sob. He whispers, "I'm here, sweet wife. No one else will lay a finger on you."

My chest tightens at his words.

Then it dawns on me... I was meant to die that night. The monsters were for my family, and I survived. I'm the reason why this pestilence plagues Brown Wood.

I pull away from Sandor when I realize this.

He recoils with shock.

I stand and run outside, passing maester Yannick, as I make my way to a bush to vomit again.

I lie in bed feeling horrible after having so many people fuss over me. Sandor wound up snarling at the servants waiting outside my door, scaring them off to give me some privacy.

Maester Yannick pats my hand after he finishes examining me, "you're going to be fine. If I'm being blunt, you had quite a dramatic reaction."

I sink into the cushions as I watch the old man gather his things, readying to leave, "of course, some bodies are more naturally dramatic than others," he turns to Sandor, ho was standing by the door, "take your husband for example. He's not got a bone in his body made with dramatics."

I look at Sandor; his face is indignant and his crossed arms make him appear more tense.

"Of course, that can also be worrying," Yannick says as he walks towards him. He pats his shoulder, "our body's reactions are telling of its conditions, and yours it telling you it needs rest."

The Hound eyes him as he exits the room. Maester Yannick shoos the people who've come back to snoop on the situation.

Sandor promptly locks the door. I lean into my pillow and watch him walk over to me.

I feel my throat tighten as he sits down on the other side of the bed. My eyes water a bit as he looks me over. He mumbles incredibly softly, "are you alright, pretty squirrel?"

I clench my jaw and sink into the sheets, "no."

He sighs. He sounds uneasy, "should I get you anything?"

Before I can respond, Sandor snaps.

"Fuck that old cunt. Dramatic or not, you spewed out everything you ate in the bushes. You need something."

I feel my vision blur. I rapidly shake my head and blink away the tears, "I'm tired, s'all."

"You need to eat something."

I reach out to him, "hold me instead?"

Sandor freezes. He proceeds to remove his shoes and gets under the sheets. He lies back and pulls me into him.

I nestle my face into his chest.

He gives out a deep sigh. He slowly speaks my name.

I lift my face and catch the worry on his.

He eyes me and presses his lip together, "you... you don't think this could be..."

I watch him as his gaze wanders, as if looking for the words to say. His hand rubs down my back. He turns to me again, "... you know..."

I knit my brows, "because I was upset about the curse?"

"Mmm-- no-" he sniffles, "because you're... carrying..."

I look at him with confusion but then it slips into realization. I perk and sit up slightly. I shake my head and offer a smile, "ah. Well... it's not improbable."

He looks at me in expectation.

I turn to his shirt, eyeing the fabric with artificial interest. I absentmindedly feel the fabric with my finger, "maester Yannick has his suspensions but he told me not to worry about it."

He shifts to towards me. He rubs my shoulders, but I still do not look up at him. He asks, "are you worried about it?"

"I'm cursed, husband," I mutter. Tears drip onto his top, "of course I'm worried. It's no wonder I cannot keep a child."

His brows tighten. He calls out my name.

I refuse to look at him. A dam of tears threaten to burst if I do.

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close.

I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest.

He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

I hold back my tears but the sobs come out anyway. I grip onto his collar for dear life. He tightens his hold on me. We remain like this until I've wet his shirt and forced myself to calm down. He holds me all throughout, the sound of his breathing lulls me.

"There were 5 of them," I mumble against him.

Sandor doesn't say a word.

"They killed every one of our servants, then my father... my poor younger brother and sister," I lick my lips, tasting the salt of my tears, "I only survived because I was not inside that day; my older brothers snuck me out to watch them ride."

I laugh at the memory of them fighting over my approval.

Sandor's heart clenches at the sound.

"Those five men were covered in blood when they found us. They told us what they did to Brown Wood, the curse they set, the lives they took to do it. They told us what they were going to do to my brothers... to me. My eldest brother managed to maim one of them before he was beaten into the ground. My other brother gave his life to put me on his horse," I push myself up and look at him, "one managed to dig his knife into me before the steed bolted away."

Sandor watches as I take his hand. I bite my lip to keep myself from sobbing.

He straightens up and wipes my face with his free palm. He rubs down to my shoulder, "your brother wanted you to live. They all would have wanted you to live a happy life."

I laugh through my sob, "they would not want Brown Wood to be cursed, none of them would."

"But it's not your fault," he speaks tenderly, "you had nothing to do with it."

"They chased after me," I muttered, "the monsters."

A line forms between his brows.

"They chased me and my brother's horse into the woods, and all I did was scream and beg the poor creature to keep running as I clung onto its neck. I lead those monsters into the forest. Those vile creatures are hurting the people here because I was meant to fall with my br-"

"Enough," he grabs my shoulders.

I make a pained sound, "don't you see?!"

He is taken aback when I fight him away, but he does not release me.

"I've cursed you too! You think I've given you gold, when I truth you've been thrown here to die!"

Sandor cups my face.

"I was never meant to have you," I grab his wrists, trying to yank him away, "I was not meant to have anyone."

I eventually give up trying to free myself from his touch. It's not like I actually wanted to be in the first place.

He swallows a thick lump in his throat. "Aye," he furrows his brows, "you were never meant to have me. I was sworn to a bastard king, destined to die for him with nothing else to live for.

"The day King's Landing was attacked from Blackwater Bay, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I saw my end in the flames," he squeezes my arms, "and I saw you... my poor lady wife, my meek and naïve little bride. I knew what they'd do to you, to you, your wench, and your lame dog if I died that night."

My heart hurts, and clenches, and twists at his soft voice. I notice the glint in his eyes, the water waiting to spill.

"Sandor..."

"You say you're my curse," he takes my hands and rubs my knuckles. He looks at me and tightens his grip. He shakes his head, knitting his brows deeply together, "you are my purpose."

My lips quiver. My breathing grows heavy.

"I will not have you harmed, by blade, by claw or curse," he leans forward and scoops me on to his lap. He seals me into a tight embrace, "let me handle this."

I suck in a breath.

"Let me keep you safe."

I sigh slowly and nod my head. I snuggle my face into his neck and mutter softly, "I trust you."

I wake up to an empty bed. I knit my brows at it and look out the window. It seems like I was early in the morning. I scratch my eyes. Or, wait... was it still night?

Gods, I am disoriented.

I reach out to Sandor's side, hand slapping on the vacant cushion, and sigh. 

I notice some candles in the room were lit. Maybe he woke up for a wee.

I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I groan.

I peel my heavy eyes open, thinking this was going to be impossible if Sandor doesn't come back soon.

I watch the sky through the window. Long moments later, I hear the door open.

I turn to see Sandor walking in. I sit up when I notice him holding a tray.

He stops in his tracks, "... you're not supposed to be awake yet..."

"You left," I retort.

"I made sure not to make a sound."

"What is that?"

Sandor turns to his tray and walks over, "something to eat when you wake." He heads towards me and places the object down on the bedside table, "it's meant to be cool by the time you did."

I knit my brows as he sits on the edge of the bed. I glance at the bowl of porridge, feeling my heart warm and pinch at his concern. I reach out to him and he sandwiches my hand in both of his, "how are you feeling?"

"Tired," I mutter.

"Hungry?"

"Tired."

"You haven't eaten anything since you emptied your guts."

"I'm not hungry, husband."

"Because you've let your hunger pass," he says sternly, a line forming between his brows.

I press my lips tightly and pull my hand out of his grip. I slowly reach out to his cheek, "may I?"

Sandor hesitates but responds by pressing my palm on his scarred face. He is rigid against my touch. It seems like he won't let up. I release him from his misery by moving my touch to his chest. He immediately relaxes. I mutter, "I'll eat in a little while."

Sandor touches the hand on his chest, "you probably woke up because you're hungry."

I chuckle softly and shake my head, "I woke because you weren't there."

He grunts.

"It's cold," I add.

"I know what can warm you up."

My stomach flips when he leans forward. But then, he reaches out for a spoon and says, "porridge."

I watch as he brings a spoonful of porridge to his lips to blow at it. When he thinks it's cool enough, he brings it towards me.

I have to bite my lips to hold back my laugh but eventually bring myself to eat, for his sake. I lick my lips after and he looks at me expectantly. I smile, "it's delicious. Thank you."

Sandor shakes his head, "it's not delicious. You're just hungry."

He goes for another scoop.

I watch as he blows the spoonful, "did you make it?"

"Nay, the castle ghost did," he brings the spoon to my lips.

I give him a look.

"... I did."

I eat the porridge.

Sandor goes for another scoop but I stop him by grabbing his arm.

We stare at each other for a moment. I shift on the mattress and get on my knees. I push myself up, becoming slightly taller than him as I did. I crawl over.

He watches me, eyes raking up and down my form. 

He stiffens when I bring my leg on his lap and take a seat there. I rest my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him, "I told you, I'm not hungry."

"..."

"I'm not a little girl that need be spoon-fed." 

I hear him put the spoon down. He places his hands on my hips.

"You don't have to treat me this way."

"Foolish wife," he sigh, "you took care of me once."

"..."

He rubs my back.

I slowly pull away and look at him.

He rubs my sides, "more than once. Much more."

My lips part. My brows knit.

"I'm hardened. I have no instinct for tenderness, only instinct to survive," he lowers his head, "you will not survive if you don't eat."

I sigh, expression melting, "oh, puppy. One missed meal will not kill me."

He scowls.

I bite my lip and cling on to the fabric of his top, "I swear to you, I will eat in a little while."

He sighs heavily through his nostrils.

I pout, "can we just go back to sleep for now?"

Sandor takes his time to respond.

"Please, puppy-"

He flinches.

"I'm still so sleepy."

He sighs dramatically, "fine. As you wish, little girl."

I purse my lips, "I'm not a little girl."

"The don't be bratty," he quips, " or I will have you over my knee."

My eyes widen as he pushes me off. He stands and blows out the candles.

I grunt and whine when I wake. My heart was racing, as I've had a terrible nightmare. I was in the corner of a room, the scar on my hip was a wound bleeding out, and I was waiting for whatever was outside to finally come get me.

It eventually entered to do just that, slowly peeling the wooden door open with a horrible creek. A massive, molten creature scratched down the door and steps forward. My heart was in my mouth as it looked at me.

And then it lurched, and I was awake.

I was awake with a heavy weight on top of my chest. I throw whatever it was away from me, only realizing after that it was Sandor's arm.

I sit up with a gasp, and I wait for him to curse at me for rattling him. He doesn't. He doesn't curse. He doesn't wake up.

I sigh with guilt. I fix his arm, rubbing it to make up for what I did. He snores and my eyes crinkle at it.

Oh, to sleep like a hound.

I look at the window and see the sun glistening upon the outside. I turn to my the porridge Sandor had left on the table and smile. I decide to get up and head to the bathroom before eating it.

I freshen up and relieve myself. My face falls when I find red in my skirts. For a moment, I deny it. I stare and touch it, disgusted by the very real wetness that meets my fingers. I sigh and, suddenly feel tears flood my eyes. Disappointment and sadness clogs my chest. 

By the time, I change my garments and check the bed for any stains, finding none, I was a sobbing mess.

I sit beside Sandor, heaving as I look at his sleeping form. I take the bowl of porridge and eat it. It was barely warm at this point. I leave not a drop.

I could not keep myself inside the bedroom, because all there was for me here was to cry, and I didn't want to wake my husband.

I take my tray of empty porridge and head to the kitchen. Many of the servants were already awake and working at this point, and each of the ones who greeted me had their smiles faltering at sight of my face.

I rub my tear stained cheeks.

I think I want strawberry pie.

It was pathetic that I wasn't distracted by work, that the tears kept coming as I measured, and mixed, and poured, and picked ingredients to make my favorite dessert. Not the smell nor the taste of this labour, which was meant be done with love, took away from this hopelessness in my belly, the hollowness of it all.

And as concerned as Lucy, as Yannick, as Margaret, as Arron, as Polly, as anyone who saw me was, I told them only that I needed to make this pie, and that they leave me be.

I finished two by the time Sandor woke up.

I look up at him from across the room; he had called out my name. He looked small... and scared from there. I look back down at my bowl and continue to mix the strawberries for the third pie I'm making.

I feel him walk towards me. I feel him come to my side. I do not anticipate whatever he means to do. I grab my pie tin and pour the contents in.

Sandor watches. He watches me place the top layer of dough on my pie and fashion its crust.

He calls my name again. I ignore him in lieu of completing my task.

Just as I finished, Sandor takes the pie and moves it away. He grunts, "enough fucking pie."

Finally, I look up at him. He looks so... fiercely concerned, so distressed and worried. It makes me feel sick.

"What's wrong?" he whispers.

The question... spurs me. What's wrong?

"I don't fucking know," I hiss, through tears.

Everything is wrong.

Sandor is visibly shocked by my response. This may well be the first time he's ever seen me act and speak like this.

"Do not speak to me. I don't want to speak with you," I snap and walk off. My chest hurts as I do so. My legs take me outside to the gardens, in front of Daisy's grave.

I am wrong.

It seems at this point, I no longer have any tears to cry. I sob, but no tears come out. My emotions crumple me down on the soil. I sit there in dismay. The fabric on my knees are stained brown.

I hear paws pattering. Feet are running towards me. Warm fur rubs against me. There are no barks, only wet noses and low whines.

I am irritated at first, but then Sage forces his way into my lap, and suddenly, it's all gone.

I curl my legs together. The daisies on Daisy's grave were plenty now. I find myself talking to her about the three puppies in my arms. I tell her how much she would have loved them. I tell her how sorry I am for bringing her to a place where she wasn't safe.

Lilac spots something behind me and begins to bark. Judging by the wag of her tail, I knew exactly what she saw.

I turn over my shoulder and see Sandor, nervous and hesitant.

I release the puppies from my arms and two trot over to Sandor; Rose stays by my side.

"Shall I leave?" Sandor asks.

I stare at him for a moment, feeling to scared to tell him no, to ask him of anything at this moment, so I just shake my head.

He walks over to me. The pups follow and run back into my lap. Sandor sits on the ground beside me.

We sit there in silence. I feel my husband look at me, examine me, unsure of his next more. He decides to simply pet the pups and be there. I am grateful for it.

"I'm sorry," I eventually mutter, "I was horrid."

"... honestly," he mutters, "it made me think this was probably what I'm like with you."

I look at the daisies in front of me. I look at the gravestone for my dog. I look at my husband, who was stroking Rose's dark fur. I tell him, "you're not like this."

His brow darts up, "aye," he frowns, " 'm far worse."

I shake my head, "... the world has been cruel to you, my love."

Sandor's brows knit tightly, "aye, and to you." His hand moves to mine. My breathing strains when he squeezes it, "I kill people that piss me off... you bake pies."

He looks at the daisies, "I don't know what's upset you, but," he looks back at me, "if you want to bake some more... I can help."

I give him a soft smile. I shake my head and mumble, "enough fucking pies."

He sigh, "I'm sorry I-"

"It's alright. I'm tired."

He sighs again.

"... I suppose it's a good time as any to tell you..."

"..."

I drop my head on his shoulder in defeat, "I'm not with child."

I feel him look down at me.

".. there was blood on my skirt when I woke," I look up at him and press my lips into a line, "I think it's just how... it'll always be... no matter what we do... what I do..."

Sandor's brows furrow. He turns and reaches for my face. When he swipes his thumb on my cheek, my eyes water.

I chew my lip and dryly chuckle, lips quivering as I did so, "do you still want me?"

His expression tightens. He shakes it head, as if he was just struck, and tightens his hold on me, "I've never wanted anything so badly."

"... Sandor... I'm curs-"

"Then I pray I'll be fucking cursed forever."

[bloodstained-porcelain-doll]

Heel to her Master, ch 6/6 - Sandor Clegane x Reader

Read on AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5

Summary: The handmaiden finds him terrifying yet intriguing. The Hound finds her wildly attractive. He stakes his claim. Warnings: Eventual smut, dub con, public humiliation, bdsm, Master/pet dynamic

The Hound picked her up off his lap and stood them both up. The pet smoothed down her dress as if it would help her look anything but ravenous and whorish. Her hair was a mess, her dress wet and her skin flushed pink and slick with sweat.

   “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be leaving. The things I’ll do to her aren’t fit for the likes of you to see,” the Hound said and finished the last of his ale. His companions all said goodbye, whistled and yelled lewd comments as they walked. The Hound stopped after only a few steps though, looking down at his pet. “You’ll be crawling, of course,” he said. The girl stopped and stared at him.

   “You can’t be serious,” she whispered.

   “Unless you’d rather I bend you over the bar and whip you until you cry.” With another big gulp she did as she was told, lowering herself onto her knees. “Good girl… heel,” the Hound said, a smug smirk on his face as he walked again, watching as his pet crawled after him, red in the face. She was furious with him that he’d use his power over her like this, but at the same time she couldn’t wait to find out what things he would do to her in private. If he was this unhinged in public… She shuddered.

   People pointed and laughed as she followed her Master on all fours, but she kept her eyes on the ground and kept on going. When they approached the door, the Hound leaned down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, using it as a leash to guide her forwards and out. She winced in pain when he finally pulled her up, allowing her to walk on two feet again.

   “You’re a menace,” she panted when he released her and the cold night air blew the hair out of her face. The Hound chuckled.

   “Look who suddenly plucked up the courage to speak. Don’t pretend you didn’t love every second of what I did to you in there. I saw it on you. I tasted it on you.” The handmaiden scowled at the Hound. He closed the gap between them and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. “Don’t believe me?” he asked and hunched down to place a rough kiss on her lips. Shocked, she found herself kissing back, tasting her own arousal on him. Then he was leading her away from the tavern, back into the Red Keep. He held her by the arm, tugging and yanking at her when she failed to perfectly match his pace.

   “Where are you taking me?” she asked when they walked through areas unknown to her.

   “Wherever I want. And whenever I want, from now on.” He ripped open a door and pushed her inside unceremoniously. She stumbled and fell to the floor with a gasp. “Pathetic little girl,” the Hound scolded. The pet felt herself blush again, her wildest fantasies coming alive. In her dreams she always imagined herself on the receiving end of his insults. It made her even hotter now that it was real. She crawled backwards when he shut the door and stalked towards her, in that moment truly feeling like he was the Hound and she was his prey.

   She leapt just as he reached forward, but he was surprisingly quick and agile for such a big man, and he caught her by her ankle, pulling her back towards him. She threw her hand up to hit him but he grabbed it with ease and she couldn’t help the smile on her lips.

   “You want to fight me, is that it?” he asked. His eyes glistened mischievously as he observed her. She nodded eagerly. Another one of her wildest fantasies. She already knew she was helpless against him, but she wanted to really feel it, experience it. “Go ahead and try then, pup.” His voice was dark and laced with lust, sending hot shivers down her spine.

   She pulled her wrist back in an attempt to flee, but she could barely move it. She shoved at him with her other arm, trying to twist away from him and his steel grip. He didn’t even look fazed when she hit him, so she used her legs and tried to kick him but it only resulted in her being tossed around and flipped onto her stomach, the cold floor meeting her cheek as he pressed her face down into it, climbing on top of her.

   “You don’t stand a fucking chance against me, welp,” he growled and bit down on her neck, hard. She shrieked in pain and clawed at the floor, at his shoulders, at anything she could reach. “You’re mine now, whether you like it or not.” Oh, she liked it, she liked it a lot. Wetness pooled between her legs when the Hound reached down and tore off her smallclothes, ripping the fabric off her body. Once more his big fingers found her cunt and pressed into her. She moaned and relaxed, letting herself rest on the floor while he curled his fingers against her pleasure spot over and over again.

   “Giving up already, are you? I knew you were pathetic and helpless from the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew one day I would take you just like this, your face pressed into my floor while I help myself to your perfect little body.” His voice was rough and she moaned at his words, grinding her hips to feel more of him. His floor. This was his chamber, she realised.

   He rocked his hips against her, dragging his hard cock across her bared bottom before he pulled his fingers out of her and landed a harsh blow on it. She cried out in pain and then she was being dragged by her hair again. She huffed indignantly when the Hound threw her on his bed. Glancing up at him and seeing him standing there in his full glory, armour still on, with a wolfish grin on his face med her feel weak, she realised there was nothing she wouldn’t let him do to her. Fuck the threat of the Lannisters, the only motivation she needed to obey was his commands.

   “Let’s hope you’re not too fond of this dress,” he growled, grabbing her by the neckline of it. With a ritsch, the ale soaked gown was torn in two pieces and she was left in only her shift. The Hound ripped that open too, leaving her bare and exposed to him. The cool air stiffened her nipples much his pleasure. Then she found herself on her knees before him once more. This time he unlaced his breeches. The pet’s eyes widened when his huge cock sprung free,  but she didn’t have much time to gawk at it before he was pushing it into her mouth.

   He gave her no time or warning before he thrust himself deeper, down her throat, grunting in pleasure as she gagged on him. Her hands instinctively came up to his thighs, holding onto them as she focused on relaxing, letting him fuck her throat. Her spit coated his cock as he rammed it in and out, taking her breath away. Soon enough she was beating at his thighs, gagging and choking for dear life. He pulled out and she gasped, taking in air again.

   The look on his face was what motivated her to open her mouth again though, letting him repeat his ministrations until she was sure her throat bled. He shoved his cock into the back of her throat, then grabbed her hair and forced her head down, keeping her still. She struggled to take him, flailing her arms, hitting his thighs and kicking her feet until he finally let her go and she took a big gasping breath once more. She was no virgin, but no one had ever treated her like this before. When the Hound was satisfied with fucking her throat he pulled out one last time, a string of spit hanging between the pet’s mouth and his cock. Her face, neck and chest were wet from all the saliva.

   “Such a good little pup. Seems you’re not completely useless after all.” He slapped her cheek hard, making her whimper. “On the bed. All fours,” he commanded. She hurried to obey, eager to please and eager to feel him inside her finally. He landed a sharp blow on each of her butt cheeks before he climbed onto the bed behind her. He shoved her head down into the mattress and lined himself up with her dripping wet pussy.

   She felt like she was being split in half when he thrust his giant cock into her. It felt delicious and she moaned loudly, making the Hound chuckle from behind her.

   “You like that, do you? Having your sweet little cunt pounded by your new Master,” he asked, ramming into her over and over. She had to steady herself with her hands to handle his brute force. She moaned a small agreement. “Use your words, stupid girl.”

   “Yes - ohh - Master! I like when you - pound me - ahh, please…” she rambled, her words blending in with her loud moans. The Hound spanked her again and again and again, making her cry out louder with each hit. She was sure her behind would be purple in the morning. He fisted his hand into her hair and yanked her head backwards.

   “Open your mouth,” he ordered. She obeyed and to her shock, he leaned down and spat right into her open mouth. She was even more shocked at how much she liked it. A blush spread on her cheeks as she swallowed it and breathed out a “thank you, Master”. The Hound chuckled and smacked her ass again before pushing her face down once more and continuing his rough pounding. The heat began coiling up inside her like it had at the inn earlier. Her moans grew louder and louder until all she could do was whimper.

   “Be a good little girl and cum for your Master,” the Hound growled in her ear, and her body obeyed him, exploding in a powerful orgasm that shook her entire body and left her clawing and biting at the sheets beneath her. The Hound her her still by her hips while she rode out her orgasm, her body going limp when she calmed down. With a chuckle, he pulled out and whipped her around onto her back.

   “You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?” he asked, entering her again, hitting even deeper from this angle. The pet threw her arms around him, wrapping one hand in his hair and the other around his neck for support. Her fear had disappeared sometime during the night, and now all she wanted was for him to never stop taking her, claiming her like this.

   “Master…” she whimpered, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his hips.

   “Yes, you’re being such a good pup, taking your Master’s cock in that little cunt. So fucking wet and welcoming for me. How long have you been waiting for me to claim you? To put you in your place just like this?” His words were sweet poison, lulling her towards that edge again along with his cock thrusting against her pleasure spot over and over.

   “For so long, Master… I’ve wanted you for as - ahh - as long as I can remember,” she moaned, shutting her eyes and digging her nails into his skin. “Please… Bite me again.” She didn’t have to plead, the Hound leaned in and bit her neck, marking her as his own, and she came for him again. This time he followed, pinning her down by her wrists as he snapped his hips against hers and spilled himself inside her with loud satisfied groans. She let out a few more breathy moans while he rocked his hips into her, gently this time. Then he pulled out and laid down next to her.

   They both lay there in silence panting for a good while before either of them spoke. She was first, turning her head to look into his eyes.   “I think I might enjoy being your pet…” she said with a small smile playing on her lips. Surprisingly, the Hound returned the smile.   “And I already enjoy being your Master.”

[plzhearmeout]

Untitled: Sandor Clegane x OFC

Reina Rivers

A bastard of the Riverlands, Reina was born to Lord Tytos Blackwood and an unknown mother. She was quickly shunned by her family, her existence only serving as a reminder of her father's sullied honor, but she grew to be kind and hopeful under the care of her mother. As she became an adolescent, she was known in her village and the surrounding area for her beauty and her love of roaming the countryside, and her adventurous spirit soon led her into the jaws of danger. Captured by slavers, she was taken east to the free city of Lys, and then to Volantis where she was purchased by an aristocratic family. Our story begins with Reina's return to Westeros, disguised as a Volantene noblewoman in King's Landing.

Age: 25

Appearance: Long Blonde Hair, Honey Brown Eyes, Soft Features, 5'7, Curvy Queen

Personality Traits: Kind, Adventurous, Adaptable, Loyal, Self Sacrificing, Stubborn, Emotion over Logic

Love Interest: Sandor "The Hound" Clegane

{"No one will ever harm you again," he said, and there was a fierceness to his voice, growling like a dog defending its master.

"I thought you didn't believe in promises." Her voice was soft. He was so close she could have kissed him, his grip on her near bruising as his dark eyes flashed.

"Fuck promises," he replied, "this is an oath."}

Reina meets Sandor upon her arrival to King's Landing. Her noble family has formed an agreement with Tyrion Lannister to send their daughter, Reina's friend, to marry Joffrey, a plot devised by Tyrion to free Sansa from the King and appease the Starks. However, Reina is sent in the daughter's place. Though she has a mission to complete, a certain hound catches her eye, and her lack of fear forms a connection between them.

Skills: Lying, Sowing (Only Mending), Acting, Archery

Talents: Intuition, Good with Animals, Empathy

Weapons: Bow and Arrow

[tiredtogepi]

A Lady & Her Hounds

Chapter 11 (+18)

The Hound x Fem!Reader (Jon Arryn's daughter; Sabrina)

This chapter contains: Violence | Animal Death | Executions

Word Count: 947

The next morning you avoided each other completely. Later as you went back to your tent for restocking your herbs, you noticed some strange men on horseback coming towards the community. You saw Ray talking to the men who didn’t look very friendly.

You watched as Sandor stood up to scan the area looking for you to make sure you were safe. You didn’t have a welcoming expression, so he looked away when he spotted you standing there. The men left and you saw him approaching Ray. You both knew that those men weren’t a good sign.

That day you kept your pups close to you and went back to the woods. Some time later your dogs seemed to notice something. You placed your hand on your dagger. They growled at something, but you couldn’t find what it was.

Suddenly one man shot an arrow that hit Rain. She cried and whimpered. In that moment you flipped a switch in your head. You saw where the arrow came from and you yelled to your dogs.

“Attack!” You ran to Rain and picked her up. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but you lifted her like it was nothing. She weighed almost the same as you, but that didn't matter. You started hearing screams. You carried Rain and walked over there.

A man wearing a yellow cloak was being attacked by your dogs. His guttural screams had no effect on you. The attack didn’t stop until he was quiet, dismembered, and dead.

You placed Rain on the floor to examine her wound. She was breathing heavily and whimpering quietly. The arrow hit her in the chest, it would be impossible to treat her on time. You sat next to her calming her down, caressing her head, and telling her and mostly yourself that everything was going to be okay.

You saw her take her last breath. The dogs came over and sat beside her as if saying their goodbyes. You kissed her head and gave her a final hug. You removed the arrow from her chest, gathered some wood, and burned her body.

You slowly walked back to camp, and to your surprise everyone was dead. Most were hit by arrows as well. You found Ray hanging from one of the towers the community was building. You couldn't find Sandor. Your dogs started sniffing around. You noticed they picked up a scent, so you followed them.

"Sandor!" You ran to him the moment you saw him.

"Sabrina..." He said quietly in relief. Tears started falling down and you hugged him tightly. He hugged you back, closing his eyes and putting his chin down to your head. Once you pulled away from him, he noticed the blood on your clothes.

"They tried hurting you?" He worried.

"They killed Rain." Your voice failed. Your dogs started barking aggressively. When you saw who it was, you ordered the pups to back down.

"Clegane! What the fuck are you doing here?" Beric, Thoros and the rest of the Brotherhood arrived with some prisoners.

"Chasing them, you?"

"Hanging them." They made their way towards the tree to hang the prisoners they had. "Lady Sabrina! I'm surprised to see you here. Did this man kidnap you?" Beric asked you

"No, it's... Difficult to explain."

For a while, they discussed who would kill which prisoner.

"Where's the other one?" Sandor asked.

"Which one?"

"The one in the yellow cloak." When he said that you felt a shiver down your spine. It was hate.

"Dismembered, dead, and disposed." You said coldly. The men looked back at you surprised.

After hanging the prisoners, both of you decided to follow the brotherhood north. They heard some of the Starks were back in Winterfell, so you thought you had a chance to get your title back and go home to The Eyrie.

It was nice to interact with people you already knew before. You introduced your dogs to Thoros, who played with them effortlessly. Even though Sandor was there too, you felt comfortable. Having people around took away most of the pressure from the one-to-one interactions.

No one really knew what was going on between you and Sandor Clegane. They definitely thought it was strange, for a Lady like you to stick around with The Hound. It was simply not normal.

As you traveled further north the cold started bothering you. One night you spotted that same cottage where you stayed with Arya and Sandor. This time, it looked abandoned.

"We'll stay there for the night," Beric announced.

You knew he was looking at you, remembering your time together in that upstairs room. You avoided his gaze, grabbed your bag from the horse, and went inside.

When the men lit up the fire you sat close enough and cuddled with your pups to keep each other warm.

"Tell me Clegane, why is she with you?" You heard someone ask.

"Why do you care?" Sandor was back with the grumpy attitude.

"She is a beautiful woman, she's a Lady... She..."

"You think I don't fucking know that?" He growled.

"Then why, Clegane?"

"It's none of your fucking business, you bald cunt!" You laughed quietly.

“You know, she seems to like you enough to hang around you. Don’t take that for granted, Clegane.”

“What do you want me to do Thoros? Marry her?” He said ironically, then paused for a moment. “I can’t give what she deserves.”

“You can start by giving her what she wants.” Thoros replied.

You fell asleep before you could hear the rest of the conversation. A while later something woke you up. A strange feeling came over you.

You heard the men talking about fire. How one can see things when looking at it. They called Sandor to ask what he saw. You started listening, but it was hard to understand. The only thing you heard clearly was "The Wall".

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt 22

(Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader x Cersei Lannister TW: Smut, Graphic Violence)

AO3 LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340"

They did not stop riding for a day and a half.

You leaned against your husband, wavering in and out of sleep as you made your way up Blackwater Rush.

It was easiest to follow the river from the shore, and from there determine the next best course of action.

Your first instinct was to head west towards Clegane Keep. But the Westerlands belonged to the Lannisters, and since neither you nor Sandor had left Lannister employ on particularly good terms, it was best to steer clear for now.

"Besides." Sandor grumbled, "It'd be the first place they looked."

"Cersei said the Lannisters and Starks are spilling blood all over the Riverlands" you informed him.

"The Crownlands, then." Sandor breathed, "We'll want to steer clear of Harrenhall. Tywin Lannister stationed Gregor there. The bastard would turn us in for the fun of it."

"We've no bounty," you pointed out, "We're not criminals, technically. Just...not very well regarded."

"Men have hanged for less."

You thought for a moment, pressing the side of your face into his back as you watched trees go by in the darkness. The stars were out that night and the moon gave you enough light to ride by.

While autumn was creeping in, it was still warm enough in the south to be comfortable in a plain wool frock.

You brought your old dresses. They were common and dull and made sure you would blend in.

As much as a nearly 7ft tall knight in black armor and his lady love could blend in, that is.

"We could try for Driftmark." You suggested, "Catch a ship from Duskendale."

Sandor grunted in disagreement, "Not a lot of places to hide on an island, and too close to King's Landing." 

After two days you finally stopped to make camp in a clearing away from the road. 

You set to gathering firewood while your husband secured the area. When it was clear there was no one about to bother you, you could finally settle, though Sandor still intended to sleep in his armor. 

Bent over to blow onto the kindling, you felt a large hand run over your spine and down, squeezing a handful of your ass through the skirt. 

"Hello" you laughed, "can I help you ser?"

"Don't be coy" Sandor scoffed, hand creeping up your skirt and over your thigh. "Come away from that fire before you burn yourself."

It'd been weeks since you had even thought of sex, but Sandor's patience was dwindling with each stroke of his hand. His other hand found the back of your neck and pulled you to him as his fingers pushed past your small clothes and began stroking. 

You pushed yourself against his hand and arched your back eagerly. Your hands made for his armor, removing the dull metal so you could embrace him properly. 

Mouths met flesh and hands fumbled with clothes in a flurry of need until your mind began to wander. 

You hadn't  fucked anyone since Cersei. 

You could remember clearly, how gentle the queen had been with your pregnancy. Sandor was too worried about hurting you or the baby to even try and you had been desperate with need. 

Sandor pressing into your body came as a shock, you didn't even remember him crawling on top of you. 

Focus.

Where was she now? You wondered

Does she care I'm gone?

Was she angry?

Hurt?

You hoped so. 

Sandor's hands were gripping your hips hard and you could feel the bolts of pleasure you were accustomed to, small moans and gasps spilling out involuntarily, but found yourself unable to find the path you needed. 

You'd never needed to try before. 

Frowning, you closed your eyes and tried to find the rhythm with your hips. 

Cersei probably didn't even care you were gone. 

Why would she, she never loved you. 

You don't do that to someone you even like, let alone love. 

Frustration filled you as you huffed impatiently. 

Why were you thinking of this, why now? 

How pathetic were you that you couldn't fuck your husband without thinking of the queen?

"Hey"

Sandor had stopped, hovering over you. You blinked, having almost forgotten he was even there. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"Liar."

You sighed in frustration, shoving him off gently so you could sit. 

"I can't stop thinking. But it's fine, let's keep going so you can-"

"I did" Sandor pointed out, "you just....laid there."

You blinked in confusion before becoming acutely aware of the warm slickness between your legs. 

"I'm sorry." You breathed, angry with yourself, "I just.....I'm going to go fill the canteens. There's a stream just a little past the trees."

Sandor watched as you rose and caught your hand before you could flee. 

"I'm fine" you insisted, pulling away gently, "I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back."

You could hear the stream from the clearing and followed the sound. In the darkness, your steps were illuminated by the moonlight and you stopped on the marshy edge of the water. 

Your feet sunk into the mud slightly as you moved to fill the canteens. 

Why couldn't you just get your mind together?

You were free. 

Cersei wouldn't waste manpower trying to find you. 

You felt your face heat up and tears began to sting your eyes.

Stop it. You scolded yourself. Don't you dare cry. 

Cry for your child.

Cry for your husband.

Cry for Lancel

Cry for Sansa. 

Do NOT cry for that hateful bitch. 

A branch cracked behind you and you sighed, "I said I'd be right back"

As you turnee, you froze. 

The man peered at you from behind a dead tree, the moon making his eyes almost glow. 

You stepped backward, ankle-deep in the water. It was freezing and sent a shiver up your body as the man approached. 

He was ugly, but not old. His body was lean and his clothes were ragged from wear. 

"Leave me alone" you tried to sound commanding. "I'll scream."

"Scream and I'll cut your throat" The man flashed a blade, long and thin. "This doesn't have to get ugly."

"Fuck you" you spat, moving to dart upstream but the man tackled you into the water. 

Sharp rocks stung your back as you began kicking at him, battering him with feet and fists. 

You didn't scream, too focused on keeping your attacker at bay as you pushed him off and rolled on top of him. 

The dagger flashed like lightning, and you caught his wrist before he buried the blade between your breasts. 

The struggle was backed by the splashing of the water around you. You pried at his fingers, trying to wrestle the blade away. 

"Help!" You finally screamed, "Help!"

Slick with sweat and water, you were able to drag the dagger from your attacker and pressed your weight fully on his chest. 

Sandor tore past thorn bushes and fallen trees until he hit the edge of the stream. 

His heart was pounding in his ears as his eyes found red in the water. 

"Y/N!"

You turned to him and his breath caught in his throat. Bodice and skirt soaked with blood and water, you were the vision of a vengeful spirit as you stumbled out of the stream towards him. 

Just passed you he could see the form of a man splayed out on the rocky river bed. 

"Where-"

 "It's not mine" you confessed, eyes dazed for a moment as you stared at the dagger in your hand. Its blade gleamed red. 

"Fuck, I never should have-!"

His next words died in his throat as you pulled him to your level and captured his lips with yours. 

The kiss was greedy and famished as you pushed him back from the water's edge and against the trunk of a tree. 

"I need you" you growled, tossing the dagger aside and letting your hands travel across his body desperately, "now."

When he paused you pressed your body against his, one hand fumbling with his trouser strings until he finally kissed back firmly. 

"Come here." He snatched you by the waist and pressed you against the tree. 

Bark bit into your back as your husband lifted and pinned you in between his body and the forest. Your heart was pounding, head spinning. 

Panting, you tore at the neck of his shirt and ravaged his throat and shoulder with bites and kisses in equal measure until you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. 

"Fuck" you growled as he pushed into your aching cunt, stopping half away only to pull out and thrust deeper each time "More."

From this position, Sandor wasted no time bouncing you on his cock, letting the full length fill your body over and over as the flesh of your back and shoulders scrapped against the unforgiving bark of the tree. 

It was as if your entire being was vibrating, fucking your hips against his trying to pull him tighter against you. A flurry of swears and moans fell from your lips as you catched your high. 

"Don't stop" you begged, pulling your chest flush to his and feeling his length hit the deepest part of you. "Oh fuck, right there."

Cries filled the forest as you trembled around him, desperately bucking your hips with abandon. 

"More" you begged him once your feet were back in the ground. "Please, please, I need you."

Dragging you back to the clearing, Sandor tore at your blood-soaked dress until it was in tatters on the ground and he had his wife pinned on hands and knees by the fire. 

You were past words as you reveled in the feeling of your husband's hips nearly knocking you into the dirt with every thrust. 

"Gods" Sandor's hand reached between your legs to rub at your clit. "So that's what you need then. Twisted little thing."

Your wails grew higher and more desperate as his fingers pressed rough circles on your clit. 

Back arching deeper and letting your thighs spread lower, your face hit the grass as you found your focus. 

So close, oh so close

Gripped the ground, tearing at blades of grass until your mouth hung open with a scream of pleasure, your mind went blank with pleasure as your legs began to shake weakly and a fire spread from your cunt to your whole body.

Sandor pinned your throat to the ground as your cunt spasmed around him, begging him to bury his cock as deep as he could and fuck you through your climax before spilling his seed with a final choked roar. 

You froze like that, panting heavily as the final waves of your shared climax ebbed away. 

Sandor slipped into the grass, curling himself around his wife who was still twitching around him. 

The fire cracked and snapped soothingly, lulling you both into submissive sleep as Sandor covered you in a blanket and tucked a dagger into his waistband, should there be any more unwelcome visitors. 

[ravenofthefandoms]

The Lucky Stag: Part 3

Word Count: 4621 (oopsies)

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Characters: Sandor Clegane, original character (Marlys), original character (mentioned) (Jeremiah Bryne), Morgan (mentioned), Lem (mentioned), Gatins (mentioned), Brotherhood without Banners, Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion

Warnings: some gore (it’s Game of Thrones), some mild angst, some mild fluff

A/N: Hi :) sorry for disappearing but life has been hectic. I’ve been wanting to write again, especially after House of the Dragon. Hopefully, people still wanna see more of this. Hopefully, for a time, I’ll have more regular updates and posts. As I said a while back, there are some Podrick x reader posts I have brewing plus some ideas for House of the Dragon. This one isn’t super exciting but I’ve got some plans for the next few chapters that should get the blood pumping if you will

Tags (let me know if you would like to be removed since it’s been so long): @anita-e-taylor, @my-bitch-loki @orange-sherbxrt

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters outside of my own original characters. The others belong to George R.R. Martin. I do not own any of the gifs used. They belong to the original creators.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

You had been walking for ages, or what felt like it at least. Walking where, you did not know. Sandor had muttered to himself while he held you outside of the burning tavern, something about finding the men so he could tear them to bloody fucking pieces. Unfortunately, you had nothing but the singed, smoky clothes on your back and the aching hole in your chest left to your name. You knew, in reality, that it had only been a day and a half since your life had turned to ash but time no longer felt as it did before. Your eyes always felt dry, and your voice caught in your throat more often than not. Sandor could count the words you’ve spoken on his two hands.

On the first night, your friend, Marlys, was gracious enough to let you stay with her and her husband. She insisted that it was her duty as your friend, however. Another thing she tried to insist on was you sleeping in her and her husband’s bed, which he had heartily agreed to. You refused, though. Instead, you curled on the hay floor near the fireplace, Sandor sitting against the wall near your feet. 

Marlys was truly a kind woman, and you felt badly now for the way you were when you stayed there that night. You supposed that you shouldn’t, considering your grief was fresh and intense. The next morning, you and Sandor broke your fast with Marlys and her husband before they gave you enough food for a day of travel and a skin of water. Their kindness made tears well in your eyes. As you said your goodbyes, Sandor waited outside for you. 

Your childhood friend pulled you into a tight embrace. Tears spilled onto each others’ shoulders as she whispered her condolences. After a night of rest, you realized that you weren’t the only one who grieved your brother’s death, and held onto Marlys as tightly as she held onto you. “I’ll miss you, (Y/N). Promise you’ll come back someday.” You nodded in response, not trusting your voice to be steady. 

Letting go, you walked out to a patiently waiting Sandor. “Ready?” He knew what your real answer was, the same as anyone else’s would be. Your nod was good enough for him though. With one last tearful look towards probably the one place you wish you could stay, you began walking.

The first day of walking had been largely uneventful. Sandor led you with, surprisingly, gentle hands. Whether on your elbow, on the small of your back, or even holding your own in his, he never let go of you until you needed a break or it was time to set up camp. He found a clearing off the side of the path you had been traveling. With no ax, he was unable to cut any logs to build a proper fire, and instead gathered twigs and sticks from the surrounding copse of trees. As he gathered the firewood, you sat and prepared the area where the fire would blaze. Stones from a nearby stream were set in a circle to keep the flames contained. You handed it over to Sandor when he returned. He began to stack the wood, stuffing fallen leaves and tall grass into the center.

By the time you sat and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the hard ground, Sandor had the tinder smoking, then smoldering, and finally beginning to burn. As the fire slowly grew, Sandor moved to sit next to you. His eyes watched you carefully, unsure what to do or say. He had never been good with words, most of them crass and rude. He didn’t want to be crass or rude with you though. When it came to you, Sandor wanted to make you smile and laugh, to see the glimmer in your eye when you spoked animatedly, to keep you warm during the chilly nights, to-... He shook his head slightly, needing to derail this trail of thinking. As odd yet enjoyable this sensation was, there were priorities to be dealt with first. He needed to track down those sons of bitches that hurt you so and make them regret ever being born. 

“Sandor,” you murmured. He looked down and grunted. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.” He suddenly found his hands, fiddling with a small twig, to be much more interesting. 

“Don’ thank me. I’ve been more trouble than not,” he muttered. A soft chuckle, more of a sigh than anything, fell from your lips and you shook your head, almost as if he had made some silly joke. Pride swelled in his heart for a moment – hearing any sort of sweet sound from you was a blessing. You didn’t respond to his words, only scooted closer to him as a chill began to creep into the air. Your shoulders grazed his, body heat warming you as much as the fire in front of you. “You should get some rest.” His eyes flicked down to you, the smallest of bitter smiles gracing your lips. 

“Aye, I should.” You looked up at him; the lack of, well, everything in your eyes made him uneasy. He knew as well as you that rest would not come easy, if at all. Your eyes returned to the flames, your gaze becoming unfocused in them. A long moment lasted before you spoke again. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” Your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. Sandor kept his gaze fixated on your face, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve always known what needed to be done. Cook the venison, bake the bread, serve the ale, keep the tavern running, watch over my-... watch over my brother.” The last few words came out slightly strangled, as though you choked on them. “I am lost now.” 

Another long silence fell between you before Sandor reached over and took one of your hands in his own. “You’re not lost. You’re not broken neither.” Your gaze lifted to meet his own. “You’re strong. And I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you, if you let me.” You were able to offer him a small, watery smile along with a quick nod.

“Thank you, Sandor.” Your eyes returned to the flames for a moment longer before you closed them. “I want nothing more,” you said softly. Again, silence fell over the two of you, nothing to hear aside from the crackling of the fire. Sandor was unsure how long he stared into the dancing flames before your head nodded onto his shoulder and soft snores filled the air. 

The next morning, you awoke with a start, images from the past few days haunting your dreams. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, though the chill of night still hung in the air. A shiver ran down your spine as your body began to wake from its slumber. Your tailbone and legs ached as you stood and made your way to the stream. The water was cold and brisk. Dipping your hands in the babbling brook made your arms break out into gooseflesh. You cupped the water in your hands, gently bringing it to your face. The freezing shock was necessary, you felt, before you began on your journey again. When you returned to the fire, Sandor’s eyes were open and sought out your approaching figure. 

He said nothing, something you were accustomed to after a few months of knowing him. Sandor would never be considered a particularly chatty man. However, sitting in silence with the large man brought you a sense of peace and calm. 

You nodded once at the question in his eyes, and he rose to his feet. There was nothing for you to gather or put away, only the still-smoldering embers of the night’s fire. Sandor kicked dirt over it, if only to ensure that the flames would stay smothered rather than springing back to life. Once again, he guided you to the path with sure steps. There was a bloodlust in his eyes as he tracked the men that he was intent on killing. It didn’t scare you, strangely enough. For once, it made you feel… protected. You couldn’t say that you remember a time when you felt protected. Your brother, gods rest his soul, was strong and protected you from men who were too handsy or too violent. There was always the silent agreement, however, that you were the one that protected your brother. You raised him, cared for him, and made sure he grew to be the man that he was beginning to be. This sensation from Sandor, it lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you had not realized was there. A shadow that had hung from you for as long as you could remember.

Gently, you shook these thoughts from your head. You instead focused on the path ahead, watching and wary of your surroundings. Many hours passed, early morning turning into early afternoon. As though he was indeed a hound picking up a scent, Sandor stopped suddenly. He turned to your left. You turned as well, trying to see or hear or smell whatever it was that he was sensing. After a few moments, you could hear the sound of raucous laughing, as well as cursing. It was enough for Sandor to tug you along gently, despite his long, angry strides.

You walked just behind Sandor, the sound of laughter growing as you continued to walk closer. An ax laid next to a stump and a pile of chopped logs. From where you stood, you could see four men, all somewhat familiar, sitting around a fire. Sandor stopped, looking back at you slightly with a warning in your eyes. It was something you understood quickly. You nodded and took a step back.

That bloodlust was back in his eyes, if it ever left. He grabbed that ax and began stalking towards the group of men. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. Sandor swung his ax with a yell at the first man, lopping off his head with ease. It was at this moment that you turned around, hand pressed to your mouth to keep the bile down. It wasn’t that you had a sudden guilt about the silent agreement between you and Sandor to avenge your brother. In fact, you quite enjoyed the ferocity with which he swung his weapon. What made your stomach churn was the memory that it returned to you: your brother’s corpse. The grisly nature of the scene unfolding was something that you found you just could not watch. Squelching flesh as it was maimed by steel still reached your ears. Your eyes closed quickly, taking deep breaths to keep your stomach calm. As the final man whimpered in pain, you could hear Sandor speaking to him. You weren’t sure what Sandor said, his voice too soft to be carried over the wind. You did, however, hear the dying man scream at the giant before him.

All you could hear was further grumbling from Sandor. You did not open your eyes nor did you remove your hand from your mouth. The crunch of leaves and sticks stopped behind you. “It’s over now, little flower.” His hand gently came up to grab your wrist, pulling it away from your face. Your eyes opened slowly, looking up to meet Sandor’s own gaze.

“Did I scare ya?” There was something in his voice that had you shaking your head quickly.

“No, Sandor. I just… I couldn’t watch.” He nodded softly. Your hand drifted up slowly to rest on his scarred cheek. “Thank you.” Your voice was more frail than you expected or wanted it to be. “They met the ends they deserved.” 

He nodded his agreement. 

“Aye, they did. There are still more. The one who led them, with the yellow cloak. We find him, and your brother will have been avenged.” You nodded, looking up at him with a fierceness in your eyes that made his heart stutter a moment. With no more need to stay, the two of you continued back on your journey. 

Surprisingly, you did not walk as far as you thought you would have to before the sounds of men reached your ears again. It was distinctive this time, and much closer than the last group of men had been. Sandor looked down at you, nodded, and then headed towards the noise, ax ready to attack.

To both your own and Sandor’s surprise, the men you sought were standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. A handful of men, no more than ten, stood around them, and one sat above on the tree branch. Swords were partially drawn in caution, until one of the men spoke.

“Clegane.” He was a handsome man, the one who spoke. An eye patch covered his right eye, a crop of sandy hair cropped close to his head. If it weren’t for the setting you found yourself in, you would think him to be some dashing knight that you, as did many of the other girls in your village, dreamt of being swept away by. You stayed close to Sandor, however, almost hiding behind him as a child does behind their mother’s skirts.

“The fuck you doing here?” Another man asked. This one had long hair gathered into a knot atop his head and a deep red cloak hanging around his shoulders. His gaze flicked to you, seemingly amused.

Sandor pointed at the soon-to-be hanged men. “Chasing them.” His hand, still gripping yours, tensed slightly. “You?”

The second man to speak looked back at the men before responding. “Hanging them.” He seemed almost bemused in the way he spoke, as though it were just another sunny afternoon. 

“Any particular reason?” Was Sandor’s somewhat irritated response. The clipped conversation had your eyes darting between the men as they spoke. 

The first man spoke again. “They’re our men, or they were. They attacked a nearby sept and murdered the villagers. Burnt down a tavern in the next village too. Why do you want them?” His eye flicked to you, as though just realizing that the Hound was not alone. Curiosity made his head quirk to the side, his lone eye seeming to look you up and down. Not in the way you were used to men doing, but in a way that made your skin crawl. Like he was reading your body, your mind, and your soul. There was a part of you that felt sure he could hear every thought in your head.

“Same reason.” Sandor jerked his head to you. “It was her tavern they burnt. Her brother they murdered.” Your hand tensed in his, and he squeezed it gently. “She saved me.”

“Saved you? A surprise anyone would think to do that.” The second man seemed to be quite witty, or at least thought he was. There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes that you could see, even from your distance. 

Sandor looked down at you once again before returning his gaze to the men in front of him. “Aye, it is.” A pause and he started walking towards them intently, you following behind him. “They’re ours.” Sandor said, a statement of fact rather than a request.

The first man moved forward. “It is the Brotherhood’s good name they’ve dragged through the dirt.

“Fuck your name.” Sandor’s response was instant. The two of you came to a stop in front of the men. “They’re ours. I’ve killed ya once before, Dondarrion, happy to do it again.” In response, a man in the small crowd drew an arrow, pointing it at Sandor. You frowned and moved to the side between the archer and Sandor, releasing his hand in the process. “Drop that arrow, you bloody girl.” His eyes remained focused on the man he addressed as Dondarrion. “Tougher girls than you tried to kill me.” Sandor raised his ax, pointing it at the archer but careful of where he knew you stood next to him. A beat of silence and Sandor turned to start stalking towards the archer.

“You can have one of them.” Sandor turned back.

“Two.” It was almost incredulous how they seemed to barter over the lives of these men, who got to kill them. The two men who spoke with Sandor looked at each other. The second one nodded to the first, Dondarrion, who in turn nodded to Sandor.

They turned to the three men whose fates they so casually debated. Sandor went to the one on the farthest left, looked him up and down, and swung his ax back. It was grabbed, however, by the second man before he could bring it down. “No, no, no. We’re not butchers. We hang them.”

“Hanging? “ Sandor’s voice was annoyed. “All over in an instant. Where’s the punishment in that? Not enough after what they did to her brother. What they did to her ho-” Your hand on his arm stopped Sandor in his rant. He looked down to you, where you shook your head. There was no point in arguing. The other four you found died in pain and suffering. It was enough for you. Sandor pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. 

“They’ll die.” Was the simple answer from the red-cloaked man, whose hands rested so casually upon the pommel of his sword.

“We all bloody die, except for this one here.” Sandor looked back to Dondarrion, making your brow furrow in confusion. You turned to look at the man as well, still standing a bit behind Sandor. The man looked at you, a small, almost knowing smile upon his lips as he held your gaze. It unsettled you a bit, so you looked back and up at the men facing their deaths. “I’ll only gut one of them.” The bartering nearly made you snort with laughter, but you held it in.

“No.” Dondarrion switched his gaze from you to Sandor as he spoke. The giant man next to you turned and glared at the man.

“Chop off one hand.” This time you couldn’t help the snort of laughter, the gazes of the men around you turning upon you suddenly.

“We gave you two out of the three, out of respect of the lady’s loss. That’s generous.” His eye held a bit of warning for Sandor, telling him not to push his luck. Sandor sighed and looked down at you. You nodded and he turned back to Dondarrion. 

“Bunch of nances,” he grumbled. Sandor threw his ax to the ground in annoyance before looking up at the men. “There was a time I would’ve killed all seven of you just to gut these three.” Your brow quirked at his statement but you paid it no further mind.

“You’re getting old, Clegane. Or maybe your lady love has just made you soft.” Again with the mirthful look from the red-cloaked man, whose eyes roamed you freely. His gaze, though holding no malice, roamed over you with far less intensity and far more interest in the decolletage visible from the top of your gown. This was the gaze you were used to from men, and did not unsettle you like the other man’s did.

Sandor’s eyes turned to a deadly glare at the man before turning back to the men soon to be killed. “Well, he’s not.” His foot moved to the barrel that the first man stood on and kicked it from underneath his feet. He dropped suddenly and a sickening crunch was heard as he struggled against the noose. Sandor moved to the next one, turning back to you first with a question in his eyes. Your eyes leveled with his before flitting to the man in the middle.

“Did you kill my brother? With your own sword? The man you hung from a tree with the deer he had killed.” Your steely gaze leveled on the man, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth. Violently, he shook his head, muttering what you believed to be lies. You had no proof save the the cloak around his neck. The cloak was not something you recognized, but the pins holding it together were. Those were the pins you had bought your brother for his sixteenth nameday. Your hand reached up, grasping the pins gently as you looked at them before you ripped them off. You put your bootclad foot on the edge of the barrel, leveling to meet his eyes once again.

“Mistress, please, I’ll give you anything.” The final words barely escaped his lips before you pushed the barrel over and the air was stolen from his lungs. With this man, there was no snap, only the strained gasp as his throat quickly began to become crushed against the rope. You kept your gaze upon the thrashing man’s face, watching with a deepset frown as his eyes seemed to bulge from his face and the color drained from his face to only be replaced by a blue hue. Dondarrion, who had sidled up next to you, quickly kicked over the barrel of the last man, who also choked. As soon as the third man began his suffering, you stepped back. The two men who Sandor seemed to know watched with varying expressions as Sandor looked at the middle man’s feet. The red-cloaked one seem bemused as Sandor removed the man’s boots and compared them to his own feet, while the other seemed intrigued.

“Got anything to eat?” Sandor finally asked once he pulled the new boots onto his feet. The men nodded and began walking to where they had set up camp. It wasn’t far, but far enough from the road where the deadmen hanged that you could no longer hear the creaking of the rope as their limp bodies swayed in the breeze.

A few men had stayed behind, assumingly to cook the game they had hunted and keep the fires stoked. You sat next to Sandor on a log, your knees drawn close to your chest. A leg of rabbit was in your hand but your gaze stayed on the lapping waves of the lake next to you. Two men sat on the log to your right and the man called Dondarrion on the left. The red-cloaked man soon joined you, a skin of something in his hands. “Enjoying yourself?” 

Sandor examined the rabbit bone, cleaning it of its meat. “I prefer chicken.” A small smile graced your lips before you took another bite from the leg.

“Would you like to introduce us to your friend, Clegane? It is the proper thing to do.” The red-cloaked man passed the skin to Sandor, who took a swig of it before handing it to you. You took it, the burn of alcohol bringing a slight relief to you.

“Not really,” he replied. You nudged him with your elbow, though this was only met with a grumble from the man. “(Y/N), that is Beric Dondarrion, leader of this… whatever it is. And that bald cunt with the topknot is Thoros of Myr. This is (Y/N).”

They both nodded to you, which you returned. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.” 

You snorted and shook your head. “I’m no lady, Ser. But I thank ye, for the food. And the justice.” Though you spoke of it, it didn’t really feel as though justice had been served. Those men were dead, but so was your brother. You wondered if the dull ache in your heart would ever leave, or even lessen at all. The men seemed to be able to see the dull look in your eyes. Sandor’s hand gripped your knee gently, tossing the rabbit bone into the flames. Your eyes met his, and a small smile lifted the corners of your lips. He nodded and turned back to Thoros and Beric, though his hand didn’t leave you. The aforementioned men shared a look, noticing this surprisingly sweet gesture of comfort from the Hound. 

Beric nodded at your words before returning his attention to Sandor once again. “You ought to join us.” You listened as Sandor snorted, responding to Beric. At this point, you tuned yourself out of the conversation, the only thing anchoring you to reality was Sandor’s hand on your leg. You finished the rest of the rabbit leg that had been given to you earlier, tossing the bone into the fire. 

Your eyes lingered over the water, lapping at the muddy shores. The image of the strangled man kept flashing in your mind, but you steeled yourself against it. He suffered, hopefully more than your brother did. This was not enough, but it had to be. You would make it so. 

The men continued to speak, Sandor’s thumb rubbing soft and slow circles against your knee. He stood, giving one reassuring pat to your leg before he walked to the edge of the lake and began to fiddle with his pants. You averted your eyes quickly, attempting to keep a soft blush from your cheeks as your eyes found the first thing that wasn’t Sandor. Unfortunately, that thing was the amused gaze of Thoros of Myr. Suddenly, something he said registered in your brain. “You’ve brought him back? Not healed him, but… how?” The man who called himself a priest chuckled into his drink. 

“I prayed.” Beric pulled up his shirt to show you many scars, many of which should have killed him. “Six times, isn’t it?” Beric nodded to Thoros’ question. “I just got lucky. Or he did, I suppose.” Beric dropped his shirt as Sandor returned from relieving himself.

They continued their conversation, though you only payed half a mind to it. The fact that Beric had died six times but was still standing before you, very much alive, was incredible. They continued to talk about fighting, cold winds, and mysterious creatures that sounded like tales that the old women in the village would tell you as a child. “It’s not too late, Clegane.” This was the last thing Beric said to Sandor, silently awaiting an answer to his proposition. Sandor gave a soft sigh, staring at Beric before looking down at you.

His gaze held yours for a long moment, longer than you’ve had before. A soft emotion that you couldn’t quite place entranced you. “Well, what do ya say, lass? Ever been to the North?” You shook your head slightly. “Would ya like to?” A brief moment of clarity washed over you. You accepted Sandor’s offer of protection. You thought that, once your brother’s killers were caught, he would see it as a job done. Or maybe he would simply refuse to bring you, a woman, on what was doubtlessly a dangerous adventure. It seemed that this was not the case. How it seemed, at least to you, was that Sandor was intent on staying with you. And this thought made your heart feel a little brighter than it had before, and a smile painted your mouth. A real smile, one that reminded Sandor of the smiles you would offer him back in the tavern. The smile that always made his heart skip a beat, despite that particular sensation frightening him.

“Aye, I think I would like to see the North. It’s not like there’s much left for me in the Riverlands.” Beric nodded his head to you while Thoros raised his skin and took another drink. Sandor offered you a small, secret smile before taking your fingers in his hand as discreetly as he could. It wasn’t discreet at all, but thankfully, neither Thoros nor Beric felt the need to say anything.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 4: Fight to be free

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sansa and the Hound are prisoners, but...

Chapter Warnings: language, violence, blood

Masterlist

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Someone approached them at a slow pace, which horrified Sansa, while the Hound took two steps forward brandishing his sword and shouting at what appeared to be a ghost "Bring it on!"

"Who are you?" a cavernous voice asked.

“Please, my good lord,” said Sansa, “we are two simple travelers who lost our way, let us pass.”

"Two simple travellers?" the voice repeated "I see your friend travels armed." he stated.

"You are right, my noble ser, he is guiding me home."

"You've already talked too much!" Sandor interrupted her "Step aside and let us pass." he added brusquely.

"Which house did you fight for?"

"For myself." Sansa's protector replied.

"Good answer... what's your name?"

“Why would I tell a shadow who I am?” replied the Hound.

The silhouette rises "What's right is right." saying these words the man approached, the Hound advanced and almost snatched the improvised torch from the young woman's hands so that he could better see who was coming towards them, if he was armed or unarmed, if he was harmless or an enemy. The man stopped and both Sansa and the Hound looked at him.

He was a tall, skinny man with no hair and was wearing a long emerald, green robe.

"I am Ben Fox, protector of the Black Forest."

The man looked first at Sansa and then at the Hound "You are Sansa Stark!" the girl was about to ask him how he knew who she was when he continued "Your red hair is unmistakable" then added "What are you doing with the King's dog?" he asked.

"Fuck the King!" Clegane spat.

"He saved my life." Sansa replied.

“What is someone like you doing dressed like that in this shitty forest?” the Hound asked rudely.

"Praying."

"Fuck the gods too." Sandor said, spitting on the ground.

“Which gods are you praying to?” Sansa asked. “The ancients or the new? Or maybe both?”

"For the one true god, the Lord of Light."

Sansa didn't reply, she didn't know any Lord of Light, she bit her lower lip softly and then said using that calm tone that bothered the Hound so much "Please, noble Ben Fox, forgive us if we disturbed you during the prayers, let us pass now."

"Sorry, young Stark, I can't. You see, I could, but... the Lord of Light has other plans for you and until they are clear, you are our... guests." as the knight finished those words, Sansa and Sandor Clegane were surrounded, the young lady was pulled off her horse and her face covered, while the Hound’s hands were tied and his face covered. Someone pushed them to walk, they moved gropingly, they were clumsy in their movements despite someone pointing out to them the presence of a branch or a stone to climb over, neither the young woman nor the man knew how precisely they had walked when they stopped, they found themselves inside a cave that seemed to Sansa to be as large as her beloved Winterfell.

"What is this place?" the girl asked, turning to a woman with long dark hair and pale skin, but she only gave her a quick and unfriendly look that forced Sansa to look at the ground at her feet, the woman led her into an area much darker than the one in where she had previously been, Sansa was cold, she wrapped herself in her dress whose hems were now ruined and obediently followed the woman.

"Sit down." she ordered her, her voice sounding cavernous in the ears of the girl whose fear was growing more and more. She did as she ordered and looked at the woman who instead remained standing "Your suffering is over, the Lord of Light has guided you to us for a purpose, he knows everything, our every step is a step that he wanted that we accomplish. You are here for a reason, Sansa Stark." she said solemnly and then sat down next to her.

"Do you know me, my lady?" asked the frightened young woman, her heart was beating fast in her chest, great was the anguish she felt in that moment, she wanted to run out of that place, but without the Hound, she realised, she couldn't it could have gone far.

"You are scared." it wasn't a question, Sansa looked at her "I recognize the fear and you have it, but you must not be afraid of me, but of the man who took you here."

Sansa understood that he was talking about the Hound "Why? He saved me. He is an arrogant, rude man, but he has always defended me... in his own way." Sansa stated.

"I see so much darkness in his heart, not even the purest of hearts can save him. The Lord of Light can do very little for him, for an already damned soul, but for you... he has great and glorious plans."

Sansa stared into the woman's eyes "I don't understand, I don't know this god. How can he have plans for me? He is not my god. I pray to the old and new gods, no one else... please, my good lady, let us go away."

The woman, however, replied by saying "The Hound does not say everything that crowds in his head and his heart; there is only the will to bring you back to your home, Sansa Stark, you know?"

"You know my name, you know my origins, but I know nothing about you, not even your name."

The woman smiled "You are right my young lady. I am Sha, one of the many shrine maiden who venerate the Lord of Light in the old continent."

"And how can you know what is in the minds and hearts of others, Sha?"

The woman stood up and sat down in front of Sansa "He has given me a great gift, that of knowing how to probe the human heart, mind and soul and predict things that can happen if we follow precisely the steps that our great God establishes for each of us."

Sansa would have liked to retort about this mysterious lord of the Light, but from the way Sha spoke it seemed useless to insist on her beliefs and therefore she did not comment about the mysterious plans she spoke of using a prophetic tone "What do you want from me?"

"We want to take you home, but first you will have to follow a deep and long path of purification which will involve the elimination of any subject who has negatively influenced your formation as a future sovereign."

The young woman's head spun, Sha was talking about crimes, therefore about committing other crimes, all this in the name of an elusive project that would concern her and that would make her alone again and above all easily influenced and manipulated. Sansa looked around, she wanted to reach Sandor, she didn't intend to stay with that woman for a moment longer, she was afraid of her: her black eyes, her voice and her words worried her.

"In this place, of course, there are no rooms." she told her without Stark asking or stating anything "However, you can rest on a bed at the bottom of this cave, I will escort you myself."

"Thank you... but I would like to see my companion on the road, I’d like to make sure he is okay."

"Your friend is safe, don't be afraid. Keep this." she said handing her a small cup "It's fresh water, nothing poisonous or dangerous." she explained, Sansa naively drank "Come, I'll show you the way." Sha continued after the young woman had finished drinking "You will be very tired, your journey on horseback will have been long, tiring and uncomfortable." said the priestess.

"How do you know?"

Sha smiled "I told you, I foresee events that can happen if those who are chosen respect what the Lord of Light wanted."

The woman took Sansa under the arm and took her to a place, if possible, even darker...

Sansa, although her eyes were open, could see nothing: everything was dark.

It was like being in the belly of a Giant, the air was rarefied, the young woman's heart began to beat faster, she swallowed several times and tried to think that after all she could still be in King's Landing and therefore her situation could be well worse! However, the optimism lasted an instant, a blink of an eye, a drop of water fell from above and crashed noisily on the ground.

The girl stood up and began to walk, she didn't remember falling asleep... then she remembered that Sha had given her some water and Sansa understood that the woman must have given her a potion to make her sleep.

Again she trusted and her trust had been misplaced!

After a few steps, Sansa stumbled and fell forward... she didn't scream out of modesty or perhaps out of fear, she had fallen on something, she touched the object that made her fall, she felt it and felt under her fingers a mouth, eyes and then something sticky that Sansa guessed was blood, the girl jumped and fell again to escape, she started running even though she didn't know where she was going... suddenly she hit what looked like a door; Sansa leaned on it and opened it, took a few steps and fell again... this time the young woman fell into what was water...

"HELP!" the girl shouted.

"Who is there?" a voice asked.

“Whoever you are, I beg you, help me!” Sansa called in terror.

"Where are you?"

“I am… in the water.”

“Is there any water?” the voice asked again.

“Yes, please my good ser…”

“Fuck your Ser, Stark!” exclaimed the voice that Sansa recognized as that of the Hound. “Where are you?” he asked her again.

"I do not know." the girl replied anguishedly.

“Keep talking. A hound can smell you very well!”

Sansa didn't know whether to be terrified by that sentence or happy about it, but there was no time to ask herself, Stark was trembling "I'm glad you're here. Are you injured? Have you managed to figure out who I am? There's a woman who gave me… something… I…” Sansa was grabbed by the arms and pulled up. The Hound felt her face “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“N – no.” she replied turning his face in the direction the voice came from “Thank you. I'm glad you're here." she admitted and then wrapped her arms around his chest, the man's body was warm, solid and Sansa was never happier to have him by her side.

“What's this fuss?” the man asked annoyed "Stop doing this nonsense and let's get out of the water, I hate water!" Sandor added, pushing Sansa away from him and taking her hand he led her beyond that pool of water; Sansa touched the ground again and guided blindly by the Hound, sat down on a stone which, judging by the touch, seemed very smooth.

“Do you have any idea who these people are?” Sansa asked again.

“They're a bunch of fucking religious people.” Sandor replied venomously, Sansa heard him spit on the ground "They said they have plans for you, but screw their fucking plans, I'll get you out of here whole, if possible, but alive."

Sansa gulped, “I know you hate to hear this, but thank you. Thank you for what you do!”

“I only do it to get a big reward from your brothers, nothing more, don't fool yourself!” he blurted out. Sansa smiled; the Hound would never say a kind word just to please her.

“It will be great, you'll see.” she stated simply.

“I hope so, otherwise it would all be a waste of effort!” he barked.

“You just can't say a nice word, can you?”

Sandor snorted "A dog only goes after its owner and when he leaves him, he either bites or at most licks the hand of the person who takes care of him, but he is certainly not ready to wag his tail at the first kindness!" he growled defensively.

Sansa continued, "Perhaps the dog has been beaten too long for it to even remember what it was like when someone stroked its head or fed it." she was entering unknown territory and perhaps it could have provoked a violent reaction in the Hound, he could have slapped her, made her fall, slapped her, but that didn't happen.

The young woman only heard the man breathe and then say, "Not all dogs are born to live pampered in their masters' castles, some end up being killed, some to run away, some to fight to survive, some just to be born in a nice place and then have everything taken away.”

“Are you talking about yourself?” she asked before she knew it, when she did, she bit her tongue.

“The little bird is singing a little too much, sooner or later its singing will end up killing it.” Clegane replied. She didn't reply, she felt fear and at the same time a form of tenderness towards the giant with the half-burnt face next to her.

How much must he have suffered to behave that way?

Neither one nor the other was able to quantify the time they spent in total silence, one listened to the other's breathing, for a moment both seemed to hear the other's heartbeat, a drop of water – yet another – break their silence.

“We should try to go out.” Sansa stated.

She heard the man stand up and then his voice say, “You may not have noticed, but we are in the blackest darkness anyone has ever seen! Do you know how to get out?” he was teasing her.

“N – no, I asked you for this.”

“Well, the dog's sense of orientation isn't working this time, he's been in the darkness for too long time and even if he wanted to he can't smell anything... this time I'm afraid the dog will die here.”

“The Hound never gives up.” Sansa said, she knew that if there had been even a torch shining on them, she would have found his gaze on her and for the first time she was glad of the darkness that surrounded them: she blushed.

“The little bird has too kind words for someone like me. For one who bites.”

“He bites those who deserve it.” Sansa was silent. “Right?”

She heard him smile “What is it, are you afraid that the dog might growl at you and tear off your arm? This dog would bite for you.”

Sansa turned in his direction. “Why do I care so much about you?” she asked him.

Sandor didn't answer, she could sense it, but not even a sigh came out of his mouth.

The silence punctuated by the drops of water that crashed regularly on the ground made Sansa fall into a deep sleep, she dreamed that she was in her bed at Winterfell, Old Nan was telling her a story about the Last Hero of the First Men who saved the world from darkness, Bran was also there in her dream and he was totally absorbed by the woman's words, Arya - her little sister - was a little further away and was not listening to the story, but was practicing with the sword she had in his hands, her parents were near the fire, they were calm and smiling at each other, little Rickon was in his mother's arms. Sansa smiled: she would have done and given anything to be back in Winterfell with her whole family. If only dreams could come true!

When she woke up, she was on the shoulders of someone running, the man who was holding her was strong.

She heard him fighting furiously, Sansa didn't move, if it had been an enemy he could have thrown her to the ground and killed her, if it was the Hound he could have railed against her and then abandoned her: Sansa pretended to be unconscious even as she began to observe the terrain changed before her eyes, it went from earthy and rocky to grassy, ​​then earthy again and finally… Sansa felt a feeling of emptiness, then she found herself in water. Sansa resurfaced a few moments later and realized she was in a river, the man who had thrown her into the water was the Hound who was fighting against some Golden Cloaks soldiers. He was a valiant soldier, there was no doubt about that: he shot down a first one, skewered a second, slaughtered a third. Sansa observed this scene barely remaining on the surface, the dress she was wearing was heavy and therefore floating was difficult for her.

Why was he fighting his own men for her?

Moments later the fifth soldier who had come against him was killed, Sandor lowered his bloody sword and looked towards Sansa. “Are you okay, little bird?” he asked, he was about to sheathe his sword when Sansa saw another King's Landing Guard and shouted, "Behind your back!" Clegane turned and with one swift movement pierced his sword through his heart.

Sansa realized she was breathing a sigh of relief and then replied, “I'm fine. Why did you throw me into the water?”

“It's the first place I thought about when the King's soldiers appeared.” he answered sincerely sheathing his sword, Sansa would have been offended if it had been a different circumstance, however she had another question to ask the one who insisted on not being called a knight "How did we escape?"

The Hound spat and then approached the riverbank “I'll get you out, you'll be freezing.” the man helped her and when Sansa came out of the water she trembled "We should light a fire, but I fear those priests are still looking for us..."

“It's okay…” he said trembling, “let's continue, it's not a big deal. I can do it."

“The bird might get sick.” Sansa didn't know exactly if he was teasing her or if he was worried about her, but she didn't investigate, instead she insisted that the man not light the fire, she was a Stark after all, she was used to the cold, she didn't mean to show weakness "You must not prove nothing.” Sandor added a few meters later “You're cold, you're shaking.”

“No, I'm fine.” Sansa contradicted him as she continued walking.

How stupid was the little bird, did she really believe that having that attitude could help her or could it help to get to their destination faster? What would he have done with her if she had arrived at his home sick and almost dead?

He knew she was strong, he had the feeling she wanted to be brave more than necessary, "You're lying." he said to her, noticing the shivers that ran down her arms and legs. “You don't have to prove to me that you are more than you are. Wait here." he added and then returned shortly after with some large logs, the fire crackling between the logs a few minutes later.

"Thank you." she said looking at him, he made a small face and then lowered his face towards the blade of his sword, he was cleaning it, while Sansa warmed up “So, how did we escape?” she asked again.

The Hound gave her a quick look “One of those crazy people brought us food, I put a knife to his throat – the only weapon they hadn't taken because it was hidden in my boots – and I forced him to take us to the exit, you were asleep and I took you, we were almost outside when some men appeared, perhaps religious people’s followers, now it doesn't matter anymore; they must be praying to all the fucking gods in the afterlife.” Sandor was silent for a moment “We were in the forest, when some Lannister soldiers, the City Watch, appeared in front of us. And you know the rest." he concluded hastily.

“I could have helped you.” the Hound snorted and then burst out laughing “I mean it.”

“Sure, and what would you have done? Begged your noble knights not to strike me? You don't know how to use a sword, you don't know how to fight… you couldn't do anything.” he told her abruptly making her feel stupid and useless, perhaps if Arya had been in her place, the Hound would really have had some help.

Sansa felt like a burden and so before she could think about it and before she could realize it, she said to him "Well, then teach me."

P.S. Here we are a lot happened, if you want to ask me smt you can write down here or you can inbox me.

Thank you very much about your little support, I appreciete it, for me write here on Tumblr is a sort of "experiment".

All rude comments towards the story or me will be deleted. If you don't like it, don't read.

[poisonsage808]

ModernAU!Sandor Clegane x Reader (II)

Warnings: hints of violence/illegal business, language, mentions of anxiety, tried to keep reader gender neutral and loosely described but with longish hair & over 21

A/N: HAPPY DECEMBER! i’m having too much fun with this, if you’re reading and want to see something specific/ crave an interaction with our beloved sandor, lemme know! enjoy :3c

•Sandor Clegane works for Tyrion Lannister, the richest bachelor and previous owner of the finest strip club in King’s Landing. Mysteriously, the club was burned down a week or so after a meeting with the fat cat himself, his father, Tywin Lannister

•A coincidence, the cops told him with smug smiles and heavy pockets. However Tyrion was more than fine with the outcome, two times richer with the insurance money and he used it to start a popular chain of high end restaurants, well known throughout the many cities of Westeros

•There hasn’t been anymore mysterious fires since

•Sandor used to work for Tywin— or rather his daughter as a chauffeur/ security for her and her children but he quit when they hired his brother

•Where Gregor was, trouble never failed to follow. The fuckers been in and out of jail/ arrested more times than Sandor has fingers and toes count, the Lannisters always cover for his ass. He wanted no part of that.

•Tyrion wasn’t his first choice of a boss but the minute Sandor resigned from his sister’s employment, Bronn was handing him the youngest Lannister’s card. “Fortunately for both of us, the fewer options make for the easiest decisions.” Tyrion told him.

•The dwarfs associates, Bronn and Podrick, were practically intolerable (Sandor had a list of reasons for them both) but the paycheck made up for it

•On easier days all Sandor had to do was sit in meetings or in the same general area as Tyrion and make sure no surprises came the dwarfs way

•Regular days consisted of making schedules for security guards, occasionally checking and scaring any on duty that he caught slacking

•Hard days were rare but involved getting calls in the middle of the night, alerting him of suspicious activity

•Only once did Sandor receive said call with a description of his brother lurking around the office building Tyrion worked from. When he arrived, he searched the surrounding blocks then the building top to bottom but there was nothing out of the ordinary. No threats. No Mad Dog prowling in the shadows. No rest for Sandor Clegane the next few nights after that.

•Today wasn’t like any of those days but Sandor’s yet to decide if that was a good thing or not

•Sandor didn’t go to the gym at the crack of dawn but he still got to see you later in the morning, this time with the smaller stuttering lad, Podrick, by his side

•Their boss had a large drink order and sent Sandor to help the assistant carry a tray back to the office. He would’ve complained if it wasn’t for the obvious; he wanted to see you

•The poor man was already tormented by the thought of you but ever since that day you asked for his number, the two of you go back and forth between deciding hangout dates (your word, not his)

•You told Sandor you only worked at the cafe in the mornings because afterwards you interned for a graphic design company, which is what you went to school for. Poison Apple Ink, a brand he hadn't heard of until he met you, would offer you a real job after the internship was completed in some odd months.

•This required a good amount of your spare time and a lot of effort for little to no pay but you claimed you were happy to do it

•Sometimes Sandor received pictures of you at a social event late at night or early afternoons if you thought it would interest him

•His favorite is of you standing in front of a brick wall of a high school. An oversized, previously white shirt was splattered with paint of all colors. Some on your face and in your hair. Your eyes were tired, apparently the company had you and a handful of others (also in the picture) work overnight to complete the mural behind you that could tell the story of the Odyssey through pictures. But you had the biggest, proudest smile on your face

•Even you’re not hanging out, you blow up his phone with stupid questions or random thoughts and you use an absurd amount of emojis! All of which make the corner of his lip twitch into a tiny smile

•(His coworkers are suspicious when they see that)

•What’s his favorite food? What’s on his bucket list? What’s his favorite movie?

•You don’t get to ask these questions when you’re with him, you claim to forget because the two of you get wrapped into different conversations. Sometimes you carry them and Sandor’s happy to listen but when the tables are turned, you have a dopey smile on your face and hold your chin with one hand silently

-

��Sandor!” You leaned over the counter like he couldn’t already see, didn’t already have his eyes on you, and waved your hand high above your head. Genna even chimed in with a wave of her own. It was busy in the cafe, chatter all around but no one was in line so the two men moved from the door to the counter. You rolled back onto the flat of your feet and placed your hands on the screen in front of you but before either could order, Genna’s arm snaked over your shoulder and held a cup out to Sandor.

“You-You come here that often?” Podrick asked hesitantly, merely attempting to make conversation with him as he usually did.

Sandor took the disposable cup with thanks, then pointed at you with his chin, “This one would hunt me down if I went anywhere else.”

“I’m glad you know that because I just found the perfect spot to hide your body.” You smile more genuinely at Sandor’s friend, “Anything for you?”

They made the order, eight coffees total but you only charged for seven. Cogs were turning in Pod’s mind now, his eyes dropped to your name tag then your face again. You were talking to Sandor while making their drinks, asking him his opinion on the chalk drawing you did on the board. “That chicken scratch was you? Thought a child snuck in and drew on the wall.” you glared fiercely at Sandor’s response, actually threatened him a second time.

You didn’t actually look upset though and when you push the tray of drinks into his awaiting hands, he tells you the drawing looks good. By the end of the interaction Sandor’s smile was less prominent than yours and there was a vibrant blush on your cheeks when he chuckled.

“Your friend seems nice.” Pod says as they leave the cafe.

“They’re alright.”

Not an outright denial, he pries a little more, “That drawing was great, they could be a tattoo artist. They seemed happy you liked it.. maybe you—“

Sandor can’t help the intimidating expression that takes over when he looks at the boy, “Y’got a question?”

“N-No, sir, just making conversation.”

“Not a tattoo artist, they do graphic design.” He ends up saying while turning his attention away from the boy.

“Like graffiti? O-Or shirts and stickers?”

“Both. Interning for Rotten Apple or somethin’.”

“Oh, Poison Apple Ink, the clothing brand!” Pod smiles and nods to himself mostly, “Got a couple shirts from them in high school.”

Dropping the coffees off was Podrick’s job but since Sandor also had a tray in his hand, he got looped into sitting in on the personal meeting. Tyrion waved them both in while chatting with his brother, Jaime Lannister. Sandor didn’t personally like him but ever since the golden child was disinherited after he joined the police force, he was almost a human being. Trustworthy at arm's length at the very least, he ceased contact with his father and sister sometime after Tyrion did.

Next to the oldest Lannister was a very tall and very blonde woman that Pod sat next to. The two exchanged pleasantries while Sandor begrudgingly sat next to the second manager of security, Bronn, who shot him a smug smirk while taking a coffee. The amount of drinks didn’t add up to the amount of people in the room but Tyrion didn’t comment on it so neither did Sandor. The little shit had more than enough coin to spare.

“Good, now that you’re both back I’d like you to sign this.”

The paper and pen were first slid over to Podrick, the boy signed it without hesitation.

“What is it?” Sandor quirked a brow.

“Told you he would ask” Bronn quipped with a chuckle at their boss’ expense.

“A sign up sheet for the holiday p-“

“No.”

“I’m not asking for your soul, Clegane, it’s a social gathering for work!” Tyrion waves his arms exasperatedly, “I provide the place, festivities, luxuries and all you have to do is show up.”

“Am I gettin’ paid to show up?” Sandor raises his brow and smiles mockingly.

“In good times and merriment, yes.”

“Free booze,” Bronn drags the paper in front of the giant man, “I’m goin’.”

Sandor’s frown returns, “This says softball sign up.”

“Yes, that would be the festivities.” Tyrion gestures to Jaime, “My brother has kindly rented an indoor practice court. He will lead my company to victory while his companion Brienne will guide the opposing team to defeat.”

The oldest Lannister laughs at that while the giant woman, now Brienne, only smirks knowingly.

“You can be on my team, Clegane,” Jaime flashes that same irking smile Sandor can’t stand.

“How d’ya plan on drinkin’ while swingin’ a bat?” He mumbles to Bronn with a raised brow.

“At the same time, my aims better when ‘m drunk.”

•The meeting concludes and the sign up list is returned without Sandor’s name.

•However the next morning it’s on his desk, with Tyrion sitting on the other side of it. How long had the man been waiting for him to arrive?

“I had a brilliant idea after you left yesterday, Clegane,”

“That so?” Sandor hangs his jacket up.

Tyrion purses his lips and takes a moment to wait for the taller man’s attention to focus on him again, “Or rather Pod did. He tells me you may know someone that can make shirts for the softball game.”

“Yer assistant needs new ears. They can’t make ya shirts, they’re still an intern so can’t take on clients.”

“You worked for my sister, you shouldn’t be surprised at what opportunities money can bring people.. or take away, for that matter.” He didn’t mean to slip in the bitterness that has a habit of following after mentions of that side of the family. His father and his sister, even his oldest nephew, the disdain for them is all too clear.

The shorter man sighs and squared his shoulders again, sincerity returning to his tone, “At least have them ask and mention me by name, see if that doesn’t strike their employer’s interest. If it does, hand the job to Podrick and he’ll deal with the finalities.”

Sandor involuntarily tenses, “Could do it myself.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Clegane, you shouldn’t take on extra work you won’t get paid for. Especially since you have no interest in coming to the party.” Tyrion knowingly smirks and slides off the chair, rounding the desk to hold up a pen.

The giant of a man mumbles something undoubtedly rude while he takes the pen. His boss leaves the room with Sandor’s name on the sign up sheet.

-

Daniel, your potential boss, gave you sole responsibility on this project for Mr Lannister as a test of sorts. He’s very confident you can handle this, Genna came in on her day off so you could come to this meeting and Sandor’s inside waiting for you. You have a binder full of anything you could possibly need and your phone’s still vibrating with every text of encouragement from family and friends. Everything is working out so far, isn’t that supposed to be a sign of a good start? You look and feel out of place being here. Everyone around you is wearing pressed shirts, expensive suits, dresses or skirts. Fancy, they all look so fucking fancy— why didn’t you think to dress like them!? You should text Sandor you’re running late so you can run home and change.

When Daniel takes you to meetings with clients he always wears the same thing, a shirt with his design on it, jeans and a snapback with the company’s logo. You interact with people like this on your own daily at the cafe. They’re busy and not always kind but you’re rather good at interacting with them and de-escalating situations where they’re frustrated. None of them were Tyrion fucking Lannister though were they!? You thought wearing a baseball tee with an example of your work was a great idea last night, now you’re fastening the buttons of your jacket to hide it as you walk into the lobby.

Sandor’s easy enough to spot once you get inside, your eyes lock with his instantly. At least he’s not wearing a suit, you might have a heart attack if he was, but he still looks ridiculously good. Casual, like on your hangout dates, even though he stands out among the sea of faces strutting about he looks like he works here. His blazer and slacks are navy blue and hug his form in an illegally attractive way— OK THAT'S ENOUGH! Don’t you dare drool over him right now, you have to be professional!

You realize you’ve made Sandor do the majority of the work in meeting you, he’s walked across the floor to stand some feet in front of you now.

“Y’look nervous.” He comments with a frown.

Your eyes are distracted for a moment, glued behind him and jumping from one perfect looking person to the next. When your gaze catches his again you manage a meek reply and a shrug, “A bit.”

Very nervous, he thinks to himself. You’re a chatterbox even when you’re not anxious so silence couldn’t be a good sign.

“We got some time. Wanna look around?”

You momentarily snap out of your trance to smile at him, “Are you going to be my tour guide?”

“Might be.”

Your heart flutters when Sandor holds his left arm out like the gentleman he looks like. You shuffle the binder in your grip to slip your hand into the crook of his elbow. Sandor walks at your pace, makes comments now and then while gesturing with his spare hand to a room. Only once were the two of you stopped. A man with slicked back hair, piercing blue eyes, a charming smile and a similar outfit to Sandor's. You don’t miss the way Sandor covers your hand with his as the man approaches, leaving you to smile as a greeting instead of a handshake.

“That lazy cunt’s Bronn Blackwater.” He mumbles right in front of Bronn who only laughs the comment off. His palm rests over your knuckles until his coworker is long gone but the butterflies in your stomach linger even after. Physically you might be strolling around this fancy building with fancy people but mentally, you were on cloud nine. With your nerves dissolving you find the energy to focus on your attractive tour guide.

“I thought you said you were security.”

“I am.”

“What are you securing if you’re here with me right now? Are you cutting out, Mr Clegane?” You tease.

Sandor doesn’t miss a beat with that smirk of his. You’ve always been playful but recently the line of that has been blurred and at some point you’ve gotten more coquettish. He denies you’re actually flirting with him but he can play this game too.

“Not cuttin’ out. Got precious cargo for the boss.”

Crap, crap, crap your blush is bad!

“What’s Bronn do?” You ask, suddenly avoiding his eyes.

“Security.”

“Why’s your boss need two security guards?”

•Sandor doesn’t like how genuine that question is. Don’t you know what the name Lannister means in this city? They’re not just famous, they’re feared

•The wrong things seem to scare you, the giant man thinks with bitter amusement and it slips into his tone

“Ya saw that twig. He doesn’t look as scary as me, does he?” He scoffs.

You hum and hesitantly look up at Sandor, “I still think I could take you.”

When you don’t make any attempts to correct yourself, Sandor chuckles darkly and quirks a brow at you. Playful, flirty threats were part of your banter with the man. But that might be the first time you’ve genuinely challenged him so boldly.

“That so?”

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ loudly with a smirk of your own.

If he thought you were cute when you’re nervous, what’s this he feels when you’re being brave?

“Let’s not find out today. No assasination attempts on my boss, alright?”

Your smug attitude cracks at the reminder. You’re not here to hangout with Sandor, you’re here as a representative for a potential job. The tour has officially come to an end right in front of closed doors, a metal plaque that says ‘Main Conference Room’ hanging on one side. The walls of the room are made of windows that touch the ceiling and floor but the blinds on the opposite side are closed.

“Is he, um, nice? Mr Lannister?”

Your friend shrugs a bit and with the motion, unfolds his arm and slides his hand into the pocket of his pants.

“‘Bout as nice as a Lannister can be, I guess.” Sandor’s spare grip rests on the handle of the door but he looks at you patiently, “Ready?”

Clutching the binder to your chest with both hands, you let out a determined huff of air and force a smile.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

-

Tyrion Lannister is the only one you don’t recognize in the room. Bronn and Podrick sit on either side of him while Sandor stands behind with his arms crossed. No wonder he’s security, you think as you hold out your hand to his boss.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Lannister. I’m (Y/N), thank you for your interest in Poison Apple Ink.”

“Call me Tyrion. Sit please!” His smile is also quite charming.

You pull out a chair and immediately open the binder as you sit. A quick shuffle through the papers and you pull out the examples your mentor gave you, “So Daniel wanted me to show you some designs he made in case you needed an idea for-for the shirts.”

Tyrion taps his chin as he looks over the papers you passed to him. When his expression is unreadable, your eyes dart to Sandor but he only shrugs. Bronn snatches the stack of papers from his boss’ grip when it’s held out to him. His eyebrows jump up and down while he nods or shakes his head. He mumbles something about ‘lions’ that’s definitely not a compliment.

“These are.. great, truly works of art, but I have no interest in lions. Podrick here tells me your work is fantastic, I’d like to see it for myself.”

You tug a smaller stack of designs from the binder and surrender them to Tyrion once again. You don’t have time to guess what he thinks, he begins asking you questions. Sandor tries not to look too amused now that the tables are turned on you, it’s you being forced to give answer after answer. You’re much less nervous than before. Only once you began to ramble and your eyes strayed towards him. Sandor’s chest tightened when that happened.

The meeting lasts about 40 minutes and ends successfully for both you and Tyrion. You wait in the now empty conference room for his assistant, Podrick, to return with a copy of the order. The first text you responded to was Daniel, letting him know the important details of what was discussed. Everyone else that wished you luck got an assortment of celebratory emojis. You start to lose that burst of confidence as your thumb hovers over the text threat with Sandor. It’s silly, you can’t miss him when he was just here- not when he’s still in the same building!

Y: y’know i was thinking

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Don’t hurt yourself.

•You laugh to yourself but ignore that comment.

Y: it’s not really fair i work two jobs for you now

Y: i think you owe me

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Who got you this second job again?

Y: some security guard that sucks at his job

Y: and i’m about to lose a lot of free time that i could be spending with him!

•Maybe you should’ve just thanked Sandor instead of being cheeky. He knows you're joking right? The bubbles go back and forth for much too long and every second takes away what confidence remains with you.

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: What do you want?

•A selfish amount of his time. His company. His attention. All wrapped up with the title of a proper date.

•But you don’t have the nerve to ask for that yet, it probably wouldn’t be appropriate with the project you’re taking on anyways. You could be satisfied with being friends, right?

Y: make me something! i make you coffee, now i’m making you shirts

Y: fair compensation i’d say

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Make you something... Like what?

Y: 🤷 🤔

Y: what do you know how to do?

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Cook.

Y: AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME!?!?

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: I get 500 questions every damn day from you. Not my fault you never thought to ask.

Y: valid. i want you to cook me dinner then! it can be like our last supper before i drown in all the shirts i have to make!!

Y: you know that i’m mostly joking right? you totally don’t have to

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: I don’t have to do anything. Just tell me when… And no “drowning” after. Knowing you, you’ll somehow pin your death on me.

Y: i would never! 🤔🪚

Y: would thursday be ok? i’ll bring drinks! 🍻🥂

Sandor 🐺🐺🐺: Thursday. It’s a date.

♡[I], [II], [III]

[idbchris]

 Arya Stark x Sandor Clegane  aesthetic

— When was the last time you fought for anyone but yourself? — I fought for you, didn't I?

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

A Good, Mean, Dog

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader

Warnings: none really, obvious age gap but to be fair i think he’s supposed to be slightly younger in the books

Words: 2921

Summary: The Princess and the Hound. What a story that would be.

Sequel: The Doe That Chases the Hound

You gaze up at your ever radiant mother. To all of Westeros she was a great beauty and to her enemies, a force to be reckoned with. Regardless, Cersei Lannister was your mother. She showed contempt for everyone except her children. Call the woman what you will, but Cersei loved her children fiercely. Including you, the only dark haired child among heads covered with fine, golden hair. The only sign that you had come out of Cersei’s womb were your vivid green eyes; Lannister green. You would’ve liked the golden hair of your siblings, then you wouldn’t get odd looks when all four of you were together. None were more scrutinizing than the ones that were received from your uncle Jaime. There appeared to be a question in those emerald pools of his, a question he never verbally asked. He’d offer you distant smiles then would go about his business. Because of this standoffish behavior you preferred your stunted uncle Tyrion, much to your mother’s chagrin. He was much more kinder than Jaime. Your mother didn’t like you spending so much time around her dwarf brother. She told you many times if you wanted to learn something to go to Maester Pycelle, not you drunken uncle. You didn’t like Pycelle for various reasons; one of them being that it always looked like his wrinkled gaze was concentrated on your bosom. Besides, you were looking for a surrogate father-figure. Much like your mother, Robert Baratheon treated all his children equally in the manner that he didn’t pay you any mind either. He wasn’t the fathering type which unfortunately led the terror that is known as Joffrey, run wild and for you to try and fill the void. Cersei claimed very often that Tyrion killed her mother, your grandmother, but you knew that Tyrion didn’t do it knowingly. He had been just a newborn. Newborns didn’t spring from the womb with a dagger in hand. Your mother, you knew, was very stubborn and unreasonable.

In the dark cellars under the Red Keep, you found yourself exploring with your uncle as he showed you a room filled with skulls. Not human skulls though; dragons. They varied in size and there were a few that you could hold in your hand.

“As the centuries went on, the Targaryens chained their dragons up. But dragons need freedom and large areas in order to grow. Without those, the dragons that were able to hatch never grew any larger than a cat.” Tyrion waddled beside you as your fingers felt the smoothness of the skull. With torch in hand he ventured further until you came across a dragon skull that nearly reached the ceiling. You stare at it in awe. “Now that, my dear, is Balerion. They called him the Black Dread. He was the largest dragon to ever live in Westeros. Do you recall the other two dragons which rode with him to battle?”

You think for a moment. “Meraxes and. . . I want to say the other starts with a ‘V’. Um. . . Vhagar?”

Tyrion nods. “Very good.”

“If his skull was this big, imagine his wing span!” You grin which makes Tyrion smile at your enthusiasm. Growing sad at the thought that you would never see a live dragon with your own eyes, you put down the small skull that you had been holding. “Why didn’t they see that captivity was killing them?”

Tyrion regards you kindly and pats your hand. “Because men are selfish creatures. Without dragons, the Targaryens were just like everyone else.” Leading you out of the dark room, you wince at the light.

“Balerion was the one who forged the Iron Throne, right?”

“That is correct.” You continued to speak of dragons, enjoying your leisurely stroll with your uncle. That is until you bumped into your brother.

“You shouldn’t waste your time with the likes of the Imp, sweet sister.” In a condescending manner, Joffrey looks down at his uncle. “Shouldn’t you be in a whore house drunk off your dwarf ass? I’m surprised you’re still sober.” Joff sneers, his lips curling in an unflattering manner while his sworn sword looms behind him like a menacing shadow. The Hound, they called him. Your brother’s loyal dog. There was only one other man who stood taller than Sandor Clegane and that was his brother Gregor whom was called the Mountain for that reason. They were both equally terrifying; Gregor more so than his younger brother.

“That’s not very polite Joffrey. You are to be future king and a king should not speak like such a rotten brat.” Scowling at your younger brother you wished your mother had had the nerve to spank him to correct his terrible attitude. However, Joffrey was her golden son; one who could do no harm. She was blind to the monster he was.

His cheeks turn red. Now he’s glaring at you. “Once I’m king I can do whatever I want. Remember that. I won’t have to listen to a stupid woman like you.”

Fingers twitching, you took a step forward. He instinctively backs away, fear shining in the pools of moss that were his eyes. Joffrey knew you weren’t afraid to strike him. You had done it once before, but your mother quickly gave you a good scolding.

“I-I’ll tell mother.” He squeaks.

“Go ahead. She’ll tell father and he’ll just laugh at you again.” You noticed Sandor watching with slight amusement at the altercation. You wondered if he would try to stop you if you went through with slapping him.

Your uncle clears his throat. “Now children, we must learn to get along.” He holds your hand and gazes at you warmly with his mismatched eyes. “Thank you for defending me, but I can handle Joffrey’s quips. I’m sure your mother would not be pleased to find out that her children were quarreling again.”

“Uncle. . .”

Tyrion kisses the back of your hand. “I must go. I have other business to attend to.” He glances back at Joffrey and the Hound before he leaves.

“What is there to possibly talk about anyway with that misshapen creature?” Joffrey spat.

You shoot him a withering glare. Without answering you turn on your heels in a huff and walk away. But that’s not the end of it. Joffrey continues to follow you.

“I wasn’t done talking to you.”

“Well I was. What’s wrong? Don’t you have some poor animal to mutilate?” You say over your shoulder. He must be bored. And a bored Joffrey is never a good thing.

Ever the loyal dog, Sandor follows after Joffrey as the blonde haired prince continues to pester you. When Joffrey opens his mouth to reply you cut him off.

“Don’t you ever get tired of following him around like that?” You address the question towards Sandor, completely ignoring your brother.

Instead of letting Sandor answer, Joffrey pipes up. “He’s my dog. He’ll do whatever I say without complaint. I think he’ll even hit you if I told him to.” You knew it was meant as a threat but you let out a loud scoff making Joff turn red again.

“They must pay you an awful lot to follow around a twat like my brother.” You hear Joffrey inhale sharply as the Hound lets out a chuckle. You knew you shouldn’t have said that word out loud, it wasn’t lady-like. If your mother heard you say it she’d know immediately where you learned it from and would probably ban your Uncle Tyrion from the Red Keep.

You look over your shoulder and smirk at your brother’s fish-like expression. “Perhaps you should be wearing the sigil of House Tully, Joff. You look like a trout right now.”

If looks could kill you were sure you’d be dead already. It gave you immense pleasure to see the utter hate on your brother’s face. Head held high in triumph, you left him to fume.

*

“(y/n)!”

You’re surprised at who is calling you. Robert Baratheon is outside enjoying the weather while under the shade of an awning. You try to ease the look of shock off your face. “Yes father?”

A meaty hand motions for you to where he is. You’d heard that your father used to be incredibly handsome. Now, however, you found it hard to believe. His face grew red at the simplest of physical tasks and his large belly showed how much he enjoyed the finer things in life.

Several Gold Cloaks, including your Uncle Jaime surrounded him. The only time King Robert was ever alone was when he was with his whores.

You flush at the thought when you approach him. He looks up at you with deep blue eyes; Baratheon eyes. “Good gods where has the time gone. You’re a grown woman now. Your mother used to turn heads as well.” Whenever he spoke of his wife it always held a scornful undertone. “You didn’t even notice, did you?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “Notice what?”

He laughs. “Bling and beautiful. Many men would value that in a woman.”

Anger licked the walls of your stomach. He knew nothing about you. You were definitely not blind. You knew what he did behind closed doors.

King Robert points to where you had just been. There were a few guards walking about. Nothing unusual about that. “They were staring you down like a succulent piece of meat.”

You blush and that makes him laugh louder. Fingers curling into your palm, you continued to feel ridiculed by him.

’Blind and beautiful.’

“Best way to stop that is by marrying you off. You’re old enough for marriage, right?”

’Fat bastard doesn’t even know how old I am.’

You nod.

He settles back into his cushions and takes a long gulp from his chalice. Wine dribbles down onto his beard. “Been thinking about setting you up with Ned Stark’s eldest boy. I think he’s about your age. Your mother wouldn’t have it though. Says it’s not necessary to marry two children off to Starks.” Robert Baratheon shakes his head. “What does she know?”

You’d have to thank your mother later. You didn’t want to go to the north. You’d heard how cold it gets over there and how dreary it was.

Robert heaves a sigh. “Children are such a hassle.”

’Then why are you talking to me?’

“Off you go then. Be more wary of your surroundings next time.” He pats you on the shoulder and shoos you away. Sadness enters his speech. “Wouldn’t want you to end up like Lyanna.”

Yes. Lyanna. The woman he still yearned for after all this time. The one he’d started a war for.

Kidnapped, raped, and killed.

Definitely wouldn’t want to end up like her. You left your father so that he could gorge himself on more wine and food.

You bounced slightly on top of your mare, smiling as you heard Myrcella squeal in delight. Watching as she had her horse take another jump, her gold tresses flying in the breeze. Under a grove of trees your mother clapped. She looked even more lovely when she genuinely smiled. Tommen followed behind Myrcella on his pony. The bars had to be lowered since the pony couldn’t jump too high. You and your sister cheer for your baby brother as he jumps the hurdle. Joffrey rolls his eyes while on his own mount.

“That was nothing.” He scoffs and to prove his point he has the stable hands set them at the highest bar. He jumps them easily and grins cockily. You pretend that you didn’t see and continue to lavish Tommen with praise.

“You’re going to be a great joister Tommen!” Myrcella chimes in.

Tommen’s round face blushes, but he’s smiling from ear to ear. You wished Joffrey had turned out like Tommen. Your youngest brother was to sweet for words and you loved him dearly. Every so often you would wake up to find him curled up beside you in your bed.

“Yes, I can see it now! I bet you’ll unhorse Uncle Jaime some day.” You nod.

“He’s too fat to joist!” Joffrey argued, hating that the attention wasn’t on him.

That’s when Cersei spoke up. “Don’t say mean things like that Joff. He’s your brother.”

Upset he got off his horse and stomped off to the sidelines, not before fixing a glare toward you.

You wanted to stick your tongue out at him, but your mother was in sight. So, instead you had your mare trot tauntingly in front of him. “Don’t be like that Joff. You’re just cranky. I think you’re overdue for your nap.” You turned Blue Moon away from him. Perhaps it was your own fault for antagonizing him further then turning your back on him, but the next thing you knew you heard something hit your horse; making her shriek and rear up on her hind legs. You hear your mother scream as you struggle to regain control of Blue Moon. Once she has all four hooves back on the ground she’s charging blindly in all directions and scaring the other horses.

All around you became a blur and as you duck your head trying to stay on her. You catch more of your mother screaming for someone to help you. Galloping beside you, you’re able to discern them as the Hound. He makes a grab for your horse’s reins and curses when he can’t reach. On top of his own horse he lunges again and successfully grabs hold. Blue Moon resists at first until other stable boys go to calm her down. Sandor’s strong arms lift you out of your saddle like you weighed nothing and sat you in front of him on his own horse.

“You’re alright now.” He whispers to you.

You didn’t even realize you had been shaking until your back pressed against his chest. Thick arms cage you in as he turns his horse around to where your mother and siblings stood. Alarmed guards had also flocked to the yard, quite useless as they were now. The Hound gets off first and helps you down. You look at his face, his dark eyes making your skin heat up. The scar that plagued the right side of his face in full view as he made sure you were safely on your feet. You felt like a doll when he handled you.

Cersei rushes to you, fear having drained the color on her face. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” If only everyone else could see this side of your mother. The fretting hen. Next to her, Myrcella looked to be on the verge of tears.

Urging a smile onto your face you say “I’m fine mother, thanks to Sandor.” You shoot him a grateful smile that has him turning his face away. He mumbled something incoherent and went back to where Joffrey stood. Joff’s nose scrunches and he turns away.

You notice your mom staring after Joffrey as well, her face unreadable before she turns back to you. Her palm cups your cheek. “Let’s go inside for the evening.”

Obediently you follow her back inside. After supper you made your way back to your room, tired after what had happened that day. Behind you are the subtle sounds of footsteps thumping behind you. You half expected it to be Tommen but they sound too heavy.

“Here to escort me to my room?” You ask once you see it was the Hound. “Might as well. I’m partly worried that Joffrey will pop up from the shadows and kill me.”

“So you knew it was him.” It wasn’t phrased as a question. He had seen Joffrey throw a rock at Blue Moon’s rear. You hadn’t seen him do it yourself, but you had expected as much. When you nod Sandor growls. “That little cunt.”

You chuckle. “Careful. Don’t want anyone to hear you call the future king that.”

“What a terrible king he’ll be.”

“Gods help us all.” Like last time when you smile up at him he turns his face away so that you saw the side of his face that was damaged. “Thank you again for today. Really, you saved me while everyone else was scratching their ass.”

Sandor laughs. “A lady like you shouldn’t use words like that. You’re a princess.”

“Would that make you my knight in shining armor?”

That perpetual brooding face of his returns as he looks at you with serious eyes. “I’m no knight.”

“No. I suppose you’re not. You’re better than a knight. You’re a dog.”

He appears taken aback by your statement. You didn’t know why but his confused expression had your heart pounding. When you reach your room you bid him good night, not before asking him what he wanted in return for saving you.

“I don’t want nothin’.” He merely says.

Why was your heart racing? “Not even a kiss from a maiden fair?” You partly said it as a joke, half hoping he’d actually want to kiss you.

He eyes you warily, unsure of how to respond. “This isn’t a face made for kissing maidens.”

You knew many others in his position would take up the offer in seconds. Either he didn’t find you attractive of he truly wanted you to preserve your virtue. Trying to hide your disappointment you shrug your shoulders. “Suit yourself. My offer still stands whenever you want it though.”

Alone in your room you slump to the ground, your hands touching your burning face.

The Princess and the Hound. What a story that would be.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Edge Of Ever After | 1

Part 2

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you… you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader POV shifts!, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: so this is a the sequel to my Safe Keeping series. both that and this is originally posted on ao3. you dont have to read the previous series to understand what's going on, but naturally, it will make more sense if you do. I've decided not to tag everyone that asked me to tag them in safe keeping because this is another series after all. ❤❤❤ hope you like it!

Brown Wood rarely ever has its lights out, as it housed so many people. Rare were the times the place succumbed to darkness. Still, there were moments when all the servants, maids, men, and women were asleep and not candle was lit.

Lord Clegane purposefully returned to Brown Wood amidst this darkness. As he opened and closed the gate with as much care as he could, determined not to make a sound, he finds himself thinking of the first time he came here with his wife, her servant, and their dog. The darkness Brown Wood was succumbed to was not the same it was now. Where once there was fearful abandonment now had peaceful slumber.

If you told him this was the childhood home of his lady's family, he'd believe you; it was a large estate, abandoned as it was. And if you add it had been abandoned once because of a plague of woodland monsters that ended killing her family, well, he'd still believe you, because damned if he doesn't.

That's where he had come from, the cursed forest.

But the Brown Wood estate was no longer cursed, and it was all because of her, the sun of this side of Westeros, his beloved wife. It was because of her that this haunted place was now bustling with life, because of his bride... that he was so eagerly avoiding.

Sandor prayed to the gods that his wife's loyal mutts would not wake to the smell of him. He prayed as he reached for the door handle that they had not slept near the fireplace in the living area, but if they did, that they were too tired to wake.

He sucks a breath and enters his home.

Darkness. Silence. Nothing.

He releases the breath as he shut the door.

Pants. Patters. Chuffs.

"Fuck."

Sandor looks down and catches flashes of dark furred creatures circling around him. One, he recognized to be Rose because of her size, got on her back legs and rested her front paws on him. The other two began to get excited as he swatted their sister away. They thought it a challenge to start playing.

He recognizes Sage as he softly barks and immediately drops on his knees to shush the dog.

Sage and his sisters come upon him and begin to lick his body. He would have tolerated it, had he not been covered in black, tar-like muck left over on his skin and armor.

"Fuck off, pups," he whispers as he pushes them away and stands. Lilac, ever the big mouth, began to bark in protest. Her barks echoed across the whole place.

"SHHH!" he silences in a panic, "you're going to wake your mum!"

His ghost nearly leaves him when he hears, "she was never asleep to begin with."

Sandor turns and finally spots the woman that had been sitting in darkness all this time. "Bloody seven, girl," he gasps in shock, "what are you doing in the dark?"

He walks over, lighting a candle on the table, then looks at her. Her eyes were dark and tired. Her arms were crossed and jaw was clenched.

He watches her stand and look him once over.

He immediately says, "I'm not injured."

She rolls her eyes and looks away, "I can tell, Hound."

His face twitches as she walks past him. He follows after but winces when she hisses that he better not keep the candle open.

And so the Hound blows the flame out and the rest of the dogs follow their master across the place.

He wants to tell her he did good today. He really did! He saved the villagers from an attack, helped them with their cow problem too! And he counted and killed 20 monsters in the fucking woods. Twenty!

But that was the fucking problem, and he knew it. Hell, even the pups knew it.

He was spending so much time trying to eviscerate the tar fucks he was barely home anymore. But what was he to do? Not kill the them and have his wife go on an expedition to fucking Volantis looking for a witch Littlefinger told her to look for? Fuck no. He would rather feel her sheer disappointment for coming home late than to have her go to a foreign land looking for answers she doesn't even know for certain she's going to get.

Sandor soon realizes she's leading him off to the bathroom. She opens the door and lights candles for him.

"The water is surely cold now, but you'll have to make due," she says as she brings a flame to four waxen cylinders. After setting them down, she shoos the pups that followed them in and closes the door once they were out. She then walks over and helps him out of his sticky armor.

Sandor thinks she's like a fairy in this light, though she was clearly displeased with him and exhausted from waiting up.

"Forgive me for staying out late," he mutters, wanting nothing but to hold her arms as she removed his top. He wouldn't dare touch her in this state though, caked in muck.

She scoffs, "I'll forgive you when you stop doing it."

Once Sandor was out of his metal top, she looks up at him and sighs, "bathe quickly."

"Aye," he nods surely, "I will."

"I cannot sleep alone."

"Aye," he says weaker, "I know."

"Yet still you make me wait for you," she retorts tiredly.

"… I thought you'd be able to sleep with the pups."

"The pups aren't you, Sandor."

"I-"

She walks off to wash her hands. Sandor scrams to help her.

Once her hands are clean, she curtsies and exits the bathroom.

"I'll be quick," he says, because he can't say 'I didn't think it through.'

She simply hums in acknowledgment.

My eyes were heavy, head was hurting. My whole body was crying out for respite, yet I could not sleep. I hear the door. I slowly open my eyes.

I feel Sandor draw near, but he doesn't lie beside me. I barely make out his form but I hear him kneel by the bed. He takes my hand slowly into his.

"Come to bed," I mumble under my breath but even I can't hear it with how low it was.

I open my eyes enough to make out his face, at least as much as the darkness would allow me.

He speaks with the softest of voices "I don't want you to go to sleep upset with me."

I don't have it in me to continue a conversation. Instead I pull away from him and scoot back.

Sandor is perfectly still on his spot.

Once there was a good space between us, I beckon him over by patting and rubbing the bed.

Sandor climbs to my side and I immediately sprawl on top of him. The smell of his body was a comfort, the feel of his form and warmth nearly made me faint.

I could feel his tension. I rub his ribs and shush him, "go to sleep."

Sandor lifts his head to look at me. After, he lets himself relax and stare at the ceiling until sleep takes him.

When I wake up, I'm laid atop my husband. My head was rested by his left collar bone and my leg was thrown across his hips.

It takes me a few moments to realize he was rubbing my thigh. Upon looking at his hand, then his face, I confirm, he was already awake.

Sandor looks at me and frowns.

I frown back and raise my brows.

He brushes my hair away from my face, "you're mighty tired, girl."

I relax and realize what the frown was for. Normally, twas I that woke up earlier. He was concerned because that was not the case today. "I cannot sleep well without you."

"Aye," he sighs. He brings his hand to the curve of my bum, "apologies."

My breathing grows heavy as he pushes my dress up.

"I feel terrible," he mutters, "let me make it up to you." Sandor kneads at my hip and sequentially pulls me atop him.

I do not say a word, I simply let him rub his hands on my thighs. I rest my palms on his chest and watch him examine my body.

His hands find their way up my nightgown and into my smallclothes. He locks eyes with me as he tugs them down, testing to see if I'd give him permission.

I lick my lips and tilt my head. I grab his wrists. We stare at each other for a moment.

"I do not like this routine," I mutter.

Sandor's face betrays him. He looks panicked.

I huff and shake my head, "you taking me because you're guilty."

He clenches his jaw.

"I do suppose is better than… nothing… but…"

My heart leaps into my throat when Sandor calls my name. It was a rare occasion when he did, as he opted pet names; it did things to me. When I tense, he takes the opportunity to pull away and grasp my wrists.

"Tell me how to make it up to you," he whispers.

Sandor and I watch each other's stillness.

After a moment of waiting, I pull my hands away and lean into him again. I prop my hands on his chest and he allows me to do as I please. After some shimmying and hovering, I rid myself of my underwear.

He watches as I toss it off the bed and straddle snuggly on his hips. I grab his wrists and bring his hands underneath my clothes, a silent encouragement to touch me.

The Hound squeezes and claws. I suppress a sound when he bucks into me. I feel my belly swirl in excitement but I do not allow my mind to be fogged before I get to say what's long overdue.

"Stop hunting at night."

Sandor releases a deep breath as he shifts upward on the bed. He licks his lips, "you know I won't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm so close to purging those fucking monsters," he mutters as his hands roam up my body.

"H-" I whimper when he kneads my breasts. I huff, "h-how do you know that?"

"Because they're few and far between," he shifts upward again and sequentially pulls my dress off me. Before I can cover myself, his mouth covers me, or more accurately my right breast.

I lean into him and grip his shoulder.

He sucks on my flesh then licks my nipple. He grips my ribs and further sinks into my bosom. He brings his face into my cleavage and begins to suck. He was intent, I knew, on leaving marks.

I feel him begin to rock his hips and I audibly react to the feel of his pants against my bare flesh.

I bite my lower lip and grab at his shirt, attempting to pull it off him.

He groans and pulls me closer into him, unwilling to separate his mouth from my skin. He pushes my hair back and trails kisses up to my neck. He nips my skin before finally pulling away.

Now fully sat up, he looks at me darkly. He rubs the places he'd kissed, as if examining his work, then finally, takes his top off himself.

He stills when I fondle with his waistband. He rather unwillingly allows me to move and rid of his pants. Once it was past his bum, he pulls me back down like he was scared I'd run off.

I whimper when he does so. Sandor rids himself of his final piece of clothing.

"Dance on my cock, darling."

My breath hitches. My cheeks flush.

His hands sprawl across my thighs, covering them nearly wholly and urges me to move back and forth.

I gulp as I feel my body heat up as I maneuver my hips.

The groan that leaves his mouth is high praise to me.

I garble out a sound when his thumb rubs at my nub. He hisses when he feels the wetness there, "fuck, sweetheart. You drive a man mad."

He plays with me some more then pulls his hand away to spread the wetness across his fingers, "gods be fucking good, all this for me?"

My face burns with embarrassment. I bring my hand across my chest, "Sandor."

He perks with concern and immediately cages me in his arms. He peppers kisses down my neck, "no, my lady. I'm in awe of you."

I mewl when he digs his fingers into my hair and tugs at the roots.

"Such sweetness...." he whispers against my ear, "this for an ugly dog?"

"S-stop it," I quip and give him a shove.

He pulls back and looks down at me.

I hold his gaze and scowl, "don't speak like that."

"What? R'you saying you think me pretty?"

"I do," I retort.

He laughs and rubs my arms to warm me, as if I could be cold against him. He grabs my hips then ruts into me. I make a sound as I watch him take his hardened length and slowly sink into me. I gasp as I feel him press balls deep into me.

He shudders against my ear, "liar."

The Hound begins to thrust upward and the sounds I make are muffled by his mouth. He kisses me like he's starved, and perhaps he was.

He tightens his arms around me. He buries his face into my neck. He breathes in deeply. He sighs, "color me flattered though."

I squeak when he shoves me on my back and pushes my calves into my thighs. He grunts, "fuck ya good for it."

I screw my eyes shut and throw my head back as Sandor snaps into me. With every flick of his hips, the bed creaks and I move farther and farther down the bed. He has so push me down in place to keep me from slipping any farther. He pins me by my shoulder and brings my legs up in front of him.

My legs rest his shoulder. He kisses my ankle, "my darling wife."

The Hound persists in a rough and quick pace, hardly stopping, slowing only to tease me. He gnaws at whatever part of me his mouth can reach and grunts as he explores my body. He molds me against him, hands pawing at my flesh, touching, feeling, steadying.

I'm a toy, a chew toy of a hound, something he craves to stretch, gnaw, and tear but so is very selfish and protective of.

He rubs my belly and it pushes me on edge.

When I come, I'm exhausted; I always am.

When he comes, he's spent and hot and dripping; by extension, as am I.

Sandor curses as he gives his final thrusts. I'm shaking and raw beneath him. He eventually stops and looks down upon his destruction. He spreads the slick on my thighs. He wraps my legs around him like a belt.

"I love to see you like this," he mutters in between breaths.

I heave as I blink slowly. My eyes act like I didn't just wake up from my sleep; I feel exhausted.

"Want to see you heavy with child," he rubs my belly, "my child. Fuck. I want to see you full. Love to see you leaking but I can't have that."

I try to move my legs, he instantly prevents me, "a bit more, love."

"… my leg is cramping," I cover my face with my arm.

He presses my thighs back into my chest, "just a bit more."

Sandor was laid back in bed, tracing his wife's spine with his fingers. She was straddled around his waist, laid upon him like a blanket. He listened to the sound of her steady breathing and slowly, involuntary, they begin to breathe at the same pace.

He could not express the relief, the astonishment he felt the very first time she let him hold her. The fact was, his tongue itches to tell her, to thank her for allowing him to relish the softness of her body, the warmth of her skin, the gentleness of her, even when she did not have to, even when he was not she was not getting anything in return, not like when they had sex.

But he would not express this. For what good was thanks if he had nothing to show for?

Words are empty.

For his lady, he'd carve out every skull and lay them upon her feet. He was good at that. But words? Empty.

Sandor watches as his wife stirred and looked at him.

Her hair was wild, skin sticky, eyes heavy, lips swollen. If gods were real, she was one of them.

"I think we should get dressed, husband."

His stomach skips at the name. He hated that he was so affected by it when he knew that it was duty to her; all she could feel for him was borne out of duty.

He brushes her hair back and nods, "I will not keep you longer than you'd like."

He notices how she purses her lips. He notices how she smiles. A dutiful smile.

Sandor smiles back. He wishes she'd grin at him the way she did her pups but he was hardly anything to grin about.

He watches as she pushes herself up and stands. He watches as she grabs her shift from the floor and heads to the bathroom.

Sandor rolls on the bed, breathing in the scent of their fucking… their love making. He loved her.

How could he love her if he hurt her?

He sighs and fantasizes about his wife being with child. He wonders if she'd like him more or stop caring for him once that happens.

He shakes it out of his head before he makes himself sad.

Later that day, he's back to training the boys how not to get themselves killed with their own swords. They've learned to be punctual all on their own (Polly snitches on whoever was late for the day, though he's never really set a time when practice starts).

Sage liked watching practice. He never did anything besides walk around and sniff whatever he could put his nose to, but he was always there. In some way, Sandor was very touched by this.

He was very protective of the pup, and found himself watching the small creature more than the kids he's supposed to be teaching.

But of course, he doesn't give a fuck about anyone else when his wife comes out.

"Sandor."

Immediately, Sandor turns around and perks up at the sound of the voice. Unbeknownst to him, the rest of the people in the yard do as well.

Lucy walks next to her lady. She holds a basket in one hand while she brings the other around her lady's arm. He feels a bitterness in his mouth, a bitter envy over the comfort the two women had with each other. He knows he'll never have that with his wife, but it doesn't hurt him any less.

"Lucy and I will go out to the market."

He drops everything and steps forward, "I'll accompany you."

Sage sticks his tongue out as he runs towards his beloved master, as if he understood the conversation, as if saying he, too, would be coming.

Sandor takes one look at the pup and says, "you sure as fuck 're not invited, dog."

Lady Clegane hushes the dog and reiterates a puppy cannot join them, then she looks up at Lord Clegane, "you do not have to join us either."

Sandor doesn't argue, he simply looks at Lucy, who was giving him a greasy look, and heads off to the gates.

Sandor had absolutely no idea which part of the market they were headed, so when they got there, he constantly glanced over his shoulder until eventually, his wife stopped at a vegetable stand. He turns back and hovers by them.

"Do you think we should get pumpkins?" Lady Clegane asks while absentmindedly holding an onion.

Lucy tilts her head, "we could but I don't think I could carry it."

"I'll carry it," Sandor chirps.

The two turn to him. His wife smiles and Lucy grins like a fool.

They end up buying a pumpkin that was nearly the size of his head.

Sandor is unable to make out what the two women were talking about as they walked in front of him because of how many people waved good morning or greeted him far too jovially. At a point, the women had to stop as Sandor got held up by a crowd of people wanting to have small talk with him.

Like a star, his wife saves him with her shining smile, garnering all the attention of the people for herself and quickly dispelling it. He has no idea how she does it.

They move on after and then his wife spots a stand of strawberries. He vaguely hears her excitedly tell Lucy how much she loves strawberry pie. Lucy tells her she knows this in the same excited way.

Lady Clegane is allowed to sample a strawberry. The Hound catches himself smiling at the way his wife savored the fruit.

They buy a basket full of strawberries and, just as Lucy and her lady walk away, Sandor asks the vendor where he could strawberry seeds. He doesn't get a straight answer right away and by the time he does, the women have walked off quite far.

Thankfully, by the time they notice their Hound was missing, Sandor managed to come back with a pouch of strawberry seeds in his pocket. He doesn't say anything about it though.

When they get back to Brown Wood, he immediately asks the groundskeeper, Job, if he could help him plant strawberries.

One of the servant girls, Margaret, was helping me out today. I was attempting to bake strawberry pie, and after three failed attempts, it was shaping up to be a futile task.

Margaret, face flushed and temples moistened with sweat, placed the fourth pie she fetched from the oven onto the kitchen counter. I frown as she wipes her forehead on her sleeve but play it off when she turns to me with a grin. Margaret says, "it smells so good, milady."

I give her back a smile, "I am glad to hear it."

She watches as I grab the knife and lean onto the counter. She says, "I'm very, very, very sure that we managed to make the pie just the way you like it."

I chuckle at the girl and place a hand on her shoulder, "I would hope so. I feel terrible for taking you from your chores, Margaret."

She perks and immediately shakes her head and hands, "don't be, milady! We all of us love helping you out," she brushes her hair away from her face, "even if we have to make twenty more pies to suit your taste, I would not complain."

I laugh softly as I take a towel and hold the hot pie tin in place. I take a slice of the dessert, though it was still scalding, and transfer it to my plate. I then move it towards the 3 other pies on the counter.

The truth is, there was nothing wrong with the pies. I had Margaret help me with making them precisely because she knew how to and I didn't. It's just that they didn't taste like the ones in my childhood, and I could not take it.

There was a pit in my stomach because of my lacking attempts. It was not of hunger, make no mistake, it was of longing.

I take a forkful of pie from my plate and take my time blowing some air on to the jammy thing before taking it into my mouth.

Margaret watches me with anticipation as I chew.

I look at her hopeful eyes, wanting nothing but to tell her we finally did it, but I supply her the truth, "it still tastes different."

Margaret deflates. I place the fork down on my plate as I lick my lips.

"Although the lemon and the cream did help a lot," I offer as consolation.

The girl perks and claps her hands, "then we're on the right path!"

I clear my throat and smile.

"Perhaps we can try adding other fruits into it. Or maybe you can try to recall some more details about the pie? Like a smell? Vanilla is hard to miss."

"Mmm, I don't think they added vanilla." I push the plate towards Margaret, "have a try, but be careful. It's still piping hot."

She grins at me, "thank you, milady!" then grins at the pie, taking her own fork.

I laugh at her, feeling a giddy sensation as I watch her lean forward as she takes a slice.

Margaret was the youngest out of the servant girls. She was 10 and 5 but looked quite mature for her age because of her height and fuller figure. Her demeanor was fully that of a darling girl though. Her parents used to be bakers. She told me she does not remember where their bodies were buried, so she occasionally offers prayers for them at an oak tree she used to swing on.

I imagine what it would be like for me to have my own child here in this moment. Would they also like strawberry pie? Would they care to help make it? Would they smile at me like Margaret?

I look up and see the Hound marching over. He looked a bit winded, and I figure he came from training. My belly tingles as we make eye contact.

Margaret finally takes a bite and she quite literally jumps up. She covers he mouth as she speaks, "THIS IS DELICIOUS!"

I giggle, "is it really?"

"By the gods, milady. You mean to tell me what you used to eat was better than this?"

I chuckle and watch as Sandor walks over. He heads for the cupboard where he immediately snatches a bottle of wine. He uncorks it with a pop and chugs it.

"Ehm, in a word it is," I reply to Margaret, "all I know is that it tastes different. I can't quite figure what however."

Sandor lets out a satisfied breath as he pulls the bottle away from his lips. He walks towards me, and it seems as though Margaret noticed him only now, judging by the way she jolted back and quickly greeted him.

The Hound ignores her though as he scrutinizes the countertop. He turns to me, "been baking all day, have you, little girl?"

I part my lips and battle with myself on a response. On one hand, I want to nag about how I was suddenly little girl again, but then again I quite enjoyed how his lips subtly curved upward as he spoke it.

Margaret steps back as Sandor takes up all the space by my side.

Although it was not glaringly obvious, there was a look of amusement in my husband's eyes. He sets the wine next to the pie slice and leans on the counter to get eye level with me, "you gonna give me a taste?"

I watch as he licks his lips and catch the way the wine stained them.

And so, to ward off my inner turmoil, I nag him about that instead, "alright. A slice in return for this," I snag the wine bottle, shocked by how he managed to drink it half empty already, though I really shouldn't. "You've had enough wine for today, Hound."

Sandor straightens up, dumbfounded by the turn of events. He shifts on his spot to watch me hand over the wine to Margaret, "get me a pitcher of water, my dear."

"Fuck water," Sandor scoffs.

Margaret looks between me and Sandor, heavily unsure and anxious of what to do next.

"Give me the bottle, wench," the Hound barks.

Margaret gulps and I take a step between them.

"Stop it," I scowl at him.

"But-"

"You won't enjoy the flavor of the pie if you ruin your tongue with wine." I look over and dismiss Margaret. She quickly curtsies and runs off.

"Hey- GIVE IT BA-"

"Stop it!" I grab his shoulders, "quit scaring the girl!"

The Hound walks back as I push him, "she took my wine!"

"You can have wine at supper," I quip, "if you're going to have pie, just have pie."

Sandor huffs as I release him. I then take my fork and slice a chunk for him. I bring the fork to my lips and take a moment to blow on the pie. Once it's cool enough, I bring my fork towards Sandor, my other hand underneath it to catch any falling crumbs. I get on my tiptoes to have a better hold on the fork.

He pulls his head back at first, but two seconds later, he leans in and takes a bite.

I relax on the pads of my feet and put the fork down.

He chews as he looks down on me.

I stare up at him with expectation.

He licks his lips and nods, "it's good."

I wait for him to say anything more but he doesn't. I press my lips into a line, "that's nice to hear."

He looks at me for a moment, hums, and tilts his head, "what do I owe you, then?"

"What?"

"What do I owe you?"

I raise my brows.

"Want me to feed you next?" he raises a brow.

I furrow my brows, "no…? You don't owe me anything."

He hums and shakes his head, "how about a kiss?"

"What?"

Sandor smiles lopsidedly. He bends and places his hands on my waist, yanking me into him. My body blazes with crackling flames as I'm pressed against him.

Before he can lean in, I push him by his chest with both hands. I immediately turn my face away and quip with my eyes shut, "you don't have to kiss me!"

I hold my breath. Sandor watches. Slowly, whatever expression he held slips off and gets tugged down along with the corners of his lips.

He releases me and I catch my breath. Sandor feels like his hands and arms were foreign appendages that had no business being on him. He awkwardly clenches and unclenches his fists.

I turn back to him with knit brows. He looks at me with a hard expression.

"You don't owe me things, Sandor."

His expression tightens.

I huff and place a hand on his chest, "I don't do things so… you have to repay me…"

A deep line forms between his brows.

I shake my head, shrug and smile softly, "I do them because I want to… you should only do the same."

He sighs through his nostrils and takes the hand I had on his chest. He brings it into his large ones and looks at them.

He opens his mouth and speaks so softly, under his breath, "you have such a strong sense of duty."

I blink at his words, thinking they somehow feel out of context. I figure it was true anyway, so I agree, "a sense of duty keeps me together."

Sandor turns back to me, "just as your duty being my wife."

I raise my brows.

He kisses the back of my hand before setting it down. He nods at me as he mutters, "I want what you want… If you don't want me to kiss you, then I won't."

My eyes widen, "I- I didn't say that."

He chuckles dryly, "you pulled away so fervently."

"Because you asked me what you owed!" I exclaimed, "you don't owe me."

He laughs a bit louder, "everything's got a price."

For a moment we stare at each other.

"Then how much do I owe you?"

He seems to thinks for a moment. He offers no response.

I suck in a breath, "if you want to kiss me, kiss me. Kiss me because you want to, not because… you owe me." I feel pathetic as I add, "I do not wish to buy your affection."

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

I feel my mouth go dry. It's as though my voice is taken from me and I barely manage to croak out a, "yes."

It takes too long. The Hound does not believe it. He shakes his head and says with no conviction, "very well."

[myfictionaldreams]

Listen to me // sandor clegane x fem!reader

Request: “The reader is a fighter an she almost gets killed in battle but sanders saves her once the battle is over he finds her in her room and they get into an argument that leads to rough smut with biting marking and dirty talk if you don’t mind”.

Requested by: @vikingstoner69 thank you for the request! x

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, rough sex, possessive, size kink, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, finger riding, oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, manhandling, scratching, biting, disobeying orders

Word: 4.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The sword held tightly in your hand swung with expert movements, slaying your enemies one by one as they tried to enter King’s Landing. The sound of metal clashing, men shouting and roaring was like sweet music to your ears as one by one the enemies fell.

As you sidestepped another, your weapon buried deep into the chest of the unnamed man, shoving him to the floor and glancing around briefly to see the massive shadow a few bodies away, his gigantic sword swinging through multiple people at a time. The hound was an impressive warrior and always seemed to catch your attention but now was not the time, as another nameless person tried to attack you but easily, your sword ploughed through his abdomen.

Trying to get your mind back into the action, you hadn’t realised how overwhelmed the area you’d run into had become as enemies were easily able to surround you. For a few moments, you were able to keep them back but as your body ached from using so much energy at once, they stepped closer and silently, you sent a prayer knowing this could potentially be your last moments.

Turning on the spot, a sword was less than an inch from making contact with your face but it simply hovered in the air whilst you stared confusedly at it, breath caught in your throat from the smallest inkling of fear that had settled in the pit of your stomach. The owner of said sword jolted, before being lifted into the air, Sandor behind him, his long sword buried deep within the enemy's chest before being thrown effortlessly to the side. “Listen to my words girl, if you go past our front line one more time, I’m not coming to save your fucking arse so get behind and stay, that is an order!” Before you could respond, his hand firmly wrapped around your upper arm whilst he dragged you back to where you’d previously been stationed, anger boiling under your skin at being treated like a child but the oncoming enemies distracted the two of you, returning back into the thick of it.

The battle continued for hours and of course, you were the victors but you didn’t stop to join in the celebrations, deciding to retire to your quarters. As the adrenaline wore off from the battle, your muscles started to throb and ache from the overuse, especially as you started to unstrap all of your armour.

Lifting the goblet to your lips, the burn from the cheap wine helped the aches and pains pulsing through your body as you stared at your reflection, your other hand wiping away the blood, sweat and mud that caked your face. Once it was clean, you were able to inspect the small littering of scratches, thankful that these were the only injuries that you seemed to have.

However, your thoughts were cut off as heavy footsteps sounded from outside and instantly you knew who was about to storm through your door. Right on cue, Sandor smashed opened your bedroom door, not having the courtesy to knock as his eyes zoned in on your sitting form, eyes briefly glancing down at the thin nightdress that you’d changed into, whilst you looked him up and down, seeing that he had changed out of his own armour too, leaving him in his dark undershirt and trousers.

His eyes were bulging in anger, a wineskin gripped tightly in his fist as he seethed, “what the fuck did you think you were playing at out there?”

You didn’t answer straight away, letting the anger build in the room, even though Sandor was your superior in ranks, you always loved to rile him up, pushing back on his commands, particularly being one of only a handful of female guards, you liked to see just how far you could push him. “Me? I was handling it just fine out there before you got in my way.”

Standing up now so you were facing him, he walked further into the room, slamming the door behind him but you saw it coming, not trying to show any trepidation to his aggressive manner. “So having a sword nearly piercing your skull is ‘handling it’? You wouldn’t be standing here right now if I didn’t ‘get in your way’.” With every word, he inched closer and you couldn’t help the thrill that shot through you at how much he overshadowed your figure, always having found the man attractive.

Your neck ached slightly from looking up into his face, his wine-smelling breath fanning across your face as you retorted, “That’s the risk of battle Sandor! People live and die!” What you didn’t expect was his large hand to enclose around your neck, easily pushing you until your back hit the stone wall of your room.

“Are you really that thick? Do you expect me to watch you fucking die? Do you really wish to die that desperately?” Oh, you’d definitely pushed it far now, the arguments never having turned to him pushing up against the wall before but adrenaline started to race through your veins as your heartbeat pounding in your chest, not being able to stop responding.

“Get off of me Sandor! I’m as much of a warrior as you are, I slew just as many enemies today but people die, I accepted that a long time ago!” Your fingernails dug into his hand that was increasingly adding pressure to your neck, his fingers nearly touching due to his great size.

Sandor only growled at your response and took a few steps back, pulling you with him before slamming your chest into his, keeping you close as he stared down at you with aggression, if it was any other scenario it would have you cowering but you were never one to back down.

Leaning down slightly, his grip still firmly around your throat, his voice was quieter but still just as deep, “I am you fucking leader in this army, when I say something you do it instantly without any of your fucking retorts. If I tell you to get back to your position in battle, you do it. If I tell you to eat your food off of the floor, you do it. If I tell you to get on your knees and suck my cock, you do it. Am I making myself clear?”

His vulgar words had your centre pulsing with images of being on your knees before him driving you on to do something you’d never done before but the liquid courage from your goblet and your adrenaline spurred you on, “Is that what you want me to do? Warm your cock instead of going to battle? I bet you’re hard right now with your hand around my neck”. Releasing your grip on his hand, your fingers dropped down, reaching for his clothed cock, finding it thick and hard. Trying not to show your shock at actually being correct and the sheer size of it, not that it should have been surprised, you simply chuckled, trying to ignore the damping between your own thighs.

“You can’t control me all the time Sandor, if I want to go to battle and fight,” squeezing his cock harder, you saw his breath catch in his throat as he stared down at you with dark eyes, “I fucking will.”

It seemed you’d reach the limit with the Hound as spun you around and forcefully pushed you down over the table next to the warm fire. You couldn’t hold back your surprised gasp as your cheek pressed against the hardwood, his hand now pressing down on the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

His breath hit your face as he heavily leaned over the back of you, the table being so tall that you were struggling to keep the tips of your toes on the floor. “Do you really believe that you have control and authority over all of this? Huh?”

You couldn’t answer, all of your thoughts going to the feeling of his large body, dwarfing your own and the way his hard cock was rubbing against your lower back. So lost in your arousal that you hadn’t noticed the mewling noises you were producing, as you desperately wished to feel more of him. Sandor snickered, seeing how pathetic you were becoming, noticing the slight sway of your hips as you wanted a harsher touch.

“Maybe it's not me who needs their cock warmed, is it dove? Look at you, I bet you’re fucking dripping, maybe I should keep you locked up in my room, out of trouble, as my own personal whore, I bet you’d fucking love that.”

Your skin became hot and flushed at his words, wanting nothing more than to be used for his pleasure and even though you were stubborn, your arousal was slowly turning your brain to mush. “Please Sandor”, you tried to push your hips back, desperately rubbing against his groin but he held you down firmly. Both of your arms tried to reach for him as well however, the awkward angle made it difficult so you were only able to reach behind your head and grip onto the hand holding you down, your nails once again digging into his skin but he didn’t falter.

“Is that what you want? For me to sheath my cock deep inside your warm cunt?” he didn’t give you time to answer as he ground his clothed member hard into your centre, the friction was just what you wanted, causing you to moan filthily.

“Fuck, Sandor please,” you were becoming so overstimulated from the touches, the adrenaline, the alcohol you’d consumed and having been through the battle today, you were easily losing your cool. Becoming frustrated with not being able to reach for him, you released your grip on his hand behind your neck and manoeuvred them to your hips, lifting them from the table as you tugged on your dress up, completely exposing your dropping pussy to him.

His weight shifted off of your back for a second as you could sense his gaze drifting to the apex of your thighs, seeing you present your cunt to him, wanting to feel more. “You really are my desperate little whore, is this what you want?” He humped into your centre, his trousers rubbing roughly against your skin. It was Sandor’s moan that came out the loudest as he saw the wet patch that had darkened from the area that had rubbed against you, your juices now being left on him. “Fuck”, he swore quietly to himself, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight.

“No, you aren’t just any whore, no whore that I’ve fucked has ever been this wet for cock before” his words had you whimpering in need, not caring how pathetic you looked to him. As you continued to mewl, Sandor shuffled behind, the sounds of material dragging your attention but you couldn’t turn your head, still behind held down but his large hand.

Sandor stared down at his twitching cock having pulled it free of the restraints of his trousers, the tip was red and angry, precum dripping down as he inched closer to rub it up and down your folds, both of you gasping at the sensations, “Is this what you wanted girl?”

You shouted in ecstasy, not sure if you were saying anything coherently as you loved the feeling of his tip rubbing up and down your centre before he pushed the slightest amount and his tip teased your quivering hole. However, the sheer size of him caused your hole to stretch greatly, burning intensely as he didn’t move any further, not even fully inserting his tip and you knew he was too big.

The hand on the back of your neck disappeared as he moved to grip your hips, holding you still. Turning to look over your shoulder, you saw his eyes closed as he stayed still at your entrance, becoming lost at the sensations of your tight cunt. Not being able to help yourself, a laugh bubbled in your throat, “Maybe I’m not the only one desperate to be fucked, by the look on your face, I don’t think you’d be able to last more than two thrusts inside my warm, wet, tight cunt.”

You knew you shouldn’t be teasing him more but seeing him so desperate with hardly any of his member inside of you, was driving you insane. In response to your blatant disrespect, his grip on your hips harden causing pain to shoot through your thighs as he ever so slightly moved his cock further into your entrance, still only the very tip, not even at his full girth yet but you knew you were currently at your limit, having it been a while since laying with a man and you knew he had the upper hand.

“I don’t think I’m going to fit dove, all this moaning for my cock and you can’t even fit the tip” he tsked disapprovingly but the way his cock twitched against your centre, you knew he was incredibly turned on. He retracted his hips, your cunt relaxing at not having anything breach its walls for a second, before quickly being replaced by one of his fingers, pushing in all the way and your hole clenched harshly, the burn from being stretched was the perfect amount as your eyes rolled back.

His one finger made you feel so full already as he gave you a moment to adjust before rocking in and out, your hips following the actions of his thick digit, walls fluttering with every movement. His looming presence seemed to disappear from over you as he dropped to his knees, his teeth nipping along the tops of your thighs, causing your hips to buck from the sharp pains, and his finger to slip further in, knocking against your cervix.

Sandor moved quickly, pumping his finger in and out as he stood up behind you, leaning over your back, nipping against your pulse point of your neck, enough to leave teeth indents before licking over it, soothing the pain. “Did you truly believe you were in control dove? You never were -” his finger movements increased and your moaning was a constant sound of desperations as your thighs shook at the punishing speed.

“Please, I’m so close”. Instantly you regretted your words as Sandor pulled his finger out, walking backwards before collapsing into the chair next to the table, his cock still free and standing proudly in his lap.

“If you want more, you’re going to have to come and do the work”, he held his index and middle finger up, bending them in a “come here” sign before leaving them upright in his lap, one of them still wet from your juices.

Not caring with how desperate you looked, knowing what you wanted so, without wasting another breath, you stood and turned to him, your legs aching from being bent over but you didn’t pay it any attention whilst you looked him in the eye and pulled your dress over your head and discarding it to the floor. His eyes instantly searched over your body, licking his lips as you approached, climbing up into his lap, straddling his hips, settling down before smirking.

As you leaned forward as if to kiss him, you simply hovered close to his mouth instead, “I know you think you’re in control here Clegane, but you aren’t”. Slowly, you reached between your legs to where his arm rested, his two fingers still standing to attention and moving them until they were at your entrance, “I’m going to get what I want, whilst you have to wait”.

He growled as you eased down onto two of his fingers, the stretch was just as intense, eyes rolling back at the full feeling, stretching even more around his thick fingers but he just sat and watched with dark eyes, mouth hanging open as you slowly fucked his fingers. Your hands moved to rest on his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath whilst your hips rolled, his fingers moving in and out of your breached hole, your juices lubing you up and starting to drip down his wrist.

Sandor continued to allow you to fuck yourself on his fingers for a few moments, noticing the shift in your breathing and the way your hole was clenching more desperately around his fingers. This was until he started to laugh causing your eyes to snap to his, eyebrows furrowing at his response, “to answer your question dove”, he spoke between laughs, “yes, I am in control here”. As he finished his sentence, he crooked his two digits inside of you, grazing into the special spot on the inside of your cunt.

Your whole body jolted at the movement, eyes widening at the sudden burst of pleasure but not faltering in your riding. His fingers bent again, causing you to gasp loudly but was soon cut off as he pulled the back of your head down harshly to smash your lips together.

No longer were you riding his fingers, he was most definitely in control as he kept them both inside and curled them into your spongy sweet spot that sent tingles through your cunt and down your thighs as he took your breath away with his lips and tongue, dancing with your own.

It didn’t take you long before you were clawing at his arms, trying to scream into his mouth as your orgasm ripped through you, body shaking as waves of pleasure poured through you. As you came down from your high, Sandor bite into your lip and then let it snap back before resting his head against yours, his cock begging for attention between the two of you.

Dropping your hands down to the wrist that was between your legs, you eased out his fingers, your juices causing sucking noises as he moved until you felt completely empty and then you were off his lap, climbing onto your knees on the floor. Neither of you said anything as you moved either of his legs to the side, giving better access for your mouth to finally wrap around his thick tip.

Immediately, salty precum coated your tongue as you swirled it around his red, angry tip as one hand gripped the base, keeping it still whilst the other eased his trousers down further to pull his heavy balls free. Looking up at Sandor, you kept eye contact with him as you let your spit dribble down onto his cock, smothering it down his member with your hand that could hardly wrap fully around him before sucking his tip into your mouth, your lips sealing around him as you tried to take him as deep as you could but he soon reached the back of your throat.

Sandors hands rested on the back of your head as you moved your mouth up and down his length, using your lips, tongue and hand to caress and stimulate his member, feeling the veins throb with his heartbeat. Every time his cock hit the back of your throat, he would apply the smallest amounts of pressure, trying to see just how far he could push you, until his fingers were held tightly to your skull and he was thrusting up to meet your movements.

You played with his balls at the same time, feeling them clench as he thrust up causing you to gag as his cock hit the back of your throat once more, your jaw was starting to ache from keeping it open so wide but you didn’t stop, determined to make him cum in your mouth.

A sharp tug on the back of your head however had your lips being pulled off of his member, Sandor was staring down at you, face flushed and breathing heavy and by the way his cock and balls were twitching you knew he was close to finishing, “not in your mouth girl, I’m finishing in that cunt of yours”.

Moaning at his words, you moved up to kiss him fiercely, knees aching from being on them on the stone floor but you didn't stop as you climbed into his lap once more but Sandor had other ideas, as he easily stood, holding you beneath both thighs before throwing you into the middle of your bed. He discarded his own clothes easily and you were finally able to see the naked body of the beautiful giant, his muscles seemingly never-ending as he climbed into bed.

Reaching out for him, your hands rested on his cheeks, pulling his face down to stick your tongue into his mouth, moaning as you felt the difference between the scarred and unmarked sides of his face, something that was uniquely him and you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, now that you were finally here, about to be fucked by Sandor.

His heavy chest leaned over yours whilst your legs wrapped around his waist, hips bucking when you felt his hard cock brushing into your thigh. Tugging on his bottom lip, you eased your hand between your bodies, positioning his cock at your entrance, silently hoping that his two large fingers had stretched you enough for him to enter you.

Becoming impatient, you wiggled your hips further down the bed but Sandor continued to hold back never pushing any further as his lips trailed down your throat until he sat up, looking down at you whilst his hand enclosed around your jaw. He stared down at you with such fierceness it left you squirming in his grip, “now listen here little dove, I’m going to bury my cock deep inside of you, and you are going to take it, do you understand? This cunt is mine now, you hear? Only mine.”

You didn’t think you could become more aroused as he suddenly became possessive but the way you subconsciously clenched your hole around nothing, you knew you would do anything this man asked you to.

His tip was at your entrance once more, his eyes locked on yours as he eased his way inside slowly, and instantly you could feel less of a burn from the first attempt but as the bulbous tip widen your hole, you were sure that you couldn’t stretch anymore. However, you did, as both of you swore under your breaths as he filled you up further, moving until he brushed against your cervix and couldn’t enter anymore, looking down you saw that you’d been able to fit just over half of him inside.

The animalistic moan that groaned from your throat had Sandor snapping out of his slow, caring pace. His hand reached up and started to tug on your pebbled nipples as he pulled out, your cunt feeling extremely empty before sheathing back in quickly. Your fingers clawed into his back, hard enough to leave marks as his face moved beneath your jaw, leaving open mouth kisses before sucking on your pulse point, sending hot sparks to your breasts.

His thrusts started to increase in speed as you relaxed to his size, taking him easier as you both clung desperately to each other, your hips were moving in time with his creating sapping sounds. His cock brushed against every single nerve that had you reeling in pleasure, your eyes rolling backwards as you both rocked together.

“Sandor, that feel��s so good”, you moaned as he squeezed one of your breasts, your whole body jolting up the bed after a particularly powerful thrust that had your cunt tingling as your second orgasm was on the very edge of tipping over. “Please” he heard you plead, body slipping into yours ruthlessly until you couldn't hold it, screaming his name out, not caring who heard as your orgasm caused your cunt to clench so tightly Sandor had to pull out.

“Fuck you are so tight dove,” he whispered against your neck, holding you close to his chest as your legs spasmed, with the feeling pulsing through you until finally, you took a deep breath, head feeling fuzzy from feeling so good. Sandor leaned down and passionately kissed you once more, his rough lips moving against your soft ones, tongue slipping within for a brief second before he sat up causing you to whine at the loss of his warmth but his large hands were rolling your body over and you instantly caught on to his plan.

Now lying on your chest, you moved to knees, arching your chest until it was led against the bed, leaving your cunt exposed for him. His large hands wandered over your hips and arse cheeks, caressing them as he looked over your body in hunger and lust.

Finally, he gripped the base of his cock and manoeuvred it to your pulsing entrance and started pushing it within, your hips naturally falling back to meet his thrust until he was nuzzled in deeply, falling further within in the new position and once again leaving you feeling full to the brim. “Fuck” he muttered, loving the sight of you on your knees, taking his thick cock so well.

Your hands tightly gripped onto the sheets below as he started to pound away, his hands holding onto your hips were bound to leave bruises behind as he grunted with each thrust. Looking over your shoulder, you nearly came again just at seeing how he was looking at you with pure lust, sweat dripping down his hairy chest as his cock brushed into your cervix.

Leaning heavily on your neck, you reached behind, aiming to pull his hips closer but Sandor quickly gripped your wrist, reaching down to gather the other and pinned both hands behind your back, giving him a better advantage to fuck into you, holding you still.

Your throat was starting to ache from all of the screaming and moaning, every thrust sent sparks of pleasure throughout your entire body and you knew you could last much longer as your hole twitched around him and the way his grunts were increasing you knew he would be joining you in blissfulness soon.

“I want you to cum deep inside of me Sandor, ahhh-” your own orgasm took over you quickly, eyes rolling back, thighs shaking as you tried to hold off, wanting to cum at the same time but it only caused the intensity to grow.

“Your cunt is clenching so tightly, fuckkk” he gruffed moaned and with two harsh thrusts, your shoulders aching as he tugged them back to meet his hips, he was overcome with pleasure. Shouting your name, his grip on you was bruising as his cock pulsed and his hot seed started spurting over your walls, his balls brushing against your clit and you finally allowed your body to join him fully by succumbing to the orgasm that you’d been edged too.

The two of you moaned and spasmed as euphoria seeped through your entire existences, every muscle locked up before relaxing as waves rolled throughout the both of you until finally, he released your arms and you collapsed face-first into the mattress, Sandor falling behind you, his cock still buried deep inside, his arm thrown over your chest.

You nearly fell asleep as you caught your breath, the day's battle and the night's activities had worn you out thoroughly but Sandors rough facial hair brushed against your neck as he gently pulled your back to his front, keeping you close. Turning your head, his lips met yours in a soft kiss, his knuckles brushing up and down your naked torso as he kept you warm before he leant his forehead against yours.

“I might not be able to stop you dying in battle, but I feel sorry for the cunt that succeeds” he tried to joke and you smiled at his words but you knew he was trying to tell you something more so you reached over your shoulder, touching your fingers to his cheek and stroking your thumb in a circle.

The two of you fell asleep like that, sleeping through the entirety of the next day, consumed by the warmth and touches that you both gave to one another, both dreading if they were to ever attend a battle together, knowing their attentions would be elsewhere.

[fandom-puff]

A Secret Revealed

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Requested by: a mixture of two anon requests; one asked for reuniting w Sandor, the other asked for like a secret relationship being made apparent

Warnings: smut, swearing, references to battle (battle of winterfell), injury

Gif creds to owner

As the dust and ash settled over winterfell and the surrounding areas, you banged on the gates of the castle. “Let me into this fucking keep!” You called, almost stumbling forward when a bedraggled Knight of the Vale yanked the gates open.

“Lady...?”

“YLN,” you said, swiping a hand over your face. “Sorry. Lady YN of House YLN. I fought in the battle... I’ve been... I got trapped under some rubble,”

The knight bowed his head and lead you into the main castle. “I’m sure Lord Snow and Lady Stark will be pleased to see you,” he said. “Two noble houses became extinct from the battle... they’ll be relieved to know a northern house is still intact,”

“Just about,” you said grimly, giving the knight a thankful smile as he knocked on the war room door, announcing your name. Once a low voice acknowledged the call, you entered the room.

“Lady YN!” Sansa Stark said, her voice relieved, but her face etched with pain.

“My lady,” you said gently, accepting her brief hug, before Jon clapped a hand to your shoulder. “Lord Tyrion... Ser Jaime...” you nodded at the Lannister brothers. “Lord Stark...” Bran nodded, looking as distant as ever. “Your Highness,” you said to Daenerys before turning back to everyone. “How bad?”

They all looked at one another, before Tyrion spoke up. “Heavy casualties. Theon Greyjoy, Jorah and Lyanna Mormont, Alys Karstark, Eddison Tollett, Beric Dondarrion... all gone...”

“The end of house Mormont and house Karstark,” you murmured, bowing your head. “What will we do with... with the bodies? I can’t bare the thought of having to battle our friends and allies as undead,”

“We won’t have to,” Bran said. “When Arya killed the Night king, all of the wights and the whitewalkers were destroyed,” you nodded, relieved.

“We are going to burn them,” Jon said. “The ground is frozen solid, even after the dragon fire, and there are too many for shallow graves,”

“And I refuse to throw them in mass burial pits,” Sansa added.

“They deserve to go with dignity,” Tyrion confirmed.

“I’ll help. Build the pyres, I mean. And... and prepare the bodies,” you promised.

“Thank you,” Jon said.

“You need to go to the maester first,” Bran murmured. “You were stuck under rubble... surrounded by the dead,”

***

You were one of the last to leave, finally walking back to the keep behind Jon, Sansa and Daenerys. Together, you waited for the fires to die down before allowing the victory feast to commence. The wine flowed and people laughed and jested with relief. Tormund Giantsbane, who was by now extremely drunk, was on his fifth speech of the night, praising his little crow, calling for everyone to cheer and scream for him.

As you sat with Brienne of Tarth, talking in hushed voices, you heard a gruff voice that sounded distinctly familiar.

“My Lady?” Brienne said, catching your attention.

“Sorry... what?”

“More wine? Although on second thought...” she said, lowering the flagon.

“I’m sorry. I... thought I heard someone...” you mumbled, quickly hiding your face in your cup.

“No matter. I think it was just Clegane telling another serving girl to piss off,” Brienne said, looking over her shoulder briefly.

Your eyes widened. “Clegane... Sandor?” You said, more to yourself than anything else. “He’s alive?” Before Brienne has time to respond, you had pushed away from the bench, walking in the general direction of the voice. “Sandor?” You called, eyebrows knitted together.

The shrillness of your voice rang out across the room as the musicians stopped playing, silence descending. Across the hall, Sandor stared at you in disbelief, and before either of you could think rationally about reputations or honour or propriety, you were on each other, his lips covering yours in a bruising kiss that you hadn’t felt for gods know how long.

“I thought you were dead...” you whispered, tears falling down your cheeks.

“And leave you here? Not a chance,” he replied gruffly, voice thick with emotion.

As you pulled away from one another, you became very aware of the hall full of northerners, knights and wildlings, as well as the lords you had been so desperate to prove your worth as the lady of your house to.

“I didn’t know you had a girl, Hound!” Tormund called out first, raising his drinking horn and grinning from ear to ear.

“Fuck off,” Sandor said, though even in the flickering candle light, you could see he was flushing slightly. “I haven’t got a girl. I’ve got a fuckin’ lady,”

“And you’re fucking a lady too!” He said for all to hear, before drinking deeply from his horn. As the festivities picked back up, Sandor grasped your wrist in his hand, pulling you out of the hall, and you could have sworn you heard a wolf whistle.

***

“I’ve- fuck- I’ve missed you,” you whined softly, reaching up to caress his scarred cheek. Sandor hovered over you, his weight propped on one forearm as his free hand reached between your legs, tracing over your folds, knowing how to make you moan from memory.

“Me too,” he grunted, slipping a thick finger into you, groaning at the feeling of you clenching around it. “But I was a walking ransom for abandoning the king, and I wasn’t gonna include you in the price,”

You whimpered quietly as he began crooking his finger, massaging your sweet spot. “Sandor, please?” You moaned. “Please, I need you... need to feel you inside me... need you to make me yours again,” you begged, arching your back.

“Make you mine again, eh? I don’t remember you stopping being mine,” he teased and you whimpered, squealing as he practically tore your dress off your body. Pressing your lips together, you reached between your bodies, cupping his thick, heavy cock through his breeches, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Shhh, my little dove,” he said gently. “I’ll fuck you good and proper, yeah?” You nodded eagerly, parting your legs to accommodate his broad thighs. Cock in hand, he lined up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you, hissing at your tight heat. He had been making do with his own hand for far too long, and the feeling of your channel stretching around him, drenching his length with your arousal was like heaven. You felt similar, the stretch of his thick cock making your eyes roll back. “YN... fuck- I won’t be gentle,” he warned, needing you.

“Then don’t be,” you breathed, legs already wrapping around his waist. Instantly, Sandor began thrusting, his control slipping as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against yours, your wetness causing lewd noises to fill the room.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to suppress your cries, but he grasped your wrist and held it above your head, grunting. “P-people will hear!” You moaned, trying to rock your hips up.

“I don’t give a fuck. They’re at the feast. And if they do hear... who gives a shit. You’re mine!” He growled into your ear, the final sentence punctuated by a sharp thrust that had you moaning, tugging your hand from his grasp to wrap around his neck, yanking on fistfuls of his hair.

“Fuck!” You cried out, making him chuckle.

“Not very fuckin’ ladylike,” he grunted and you moaned in response, now scraping your nails down his back.

“Sandor, please!” You moaned, and he felt the spasming of your cunt, knowing you were close.

“That’s it,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Come on my cock, girl, that’s it,” he instructed and you nodded, tightening your limbs around him as you shattered around his thick cock, crying his name and not caring if the whole of the North heard you.

Sandor grunted, your release pushing him over the edge, and he filled you with his seed, your name falling from his lips in a low chant.

Panting, he pulled out of you, pulling your twitching form into his side and drawing the furs up over you. “From now on,” he murmured through breaths as you nuzzled your face into his chest. “From now on, we stay together,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen @janelongxox @honeyofthegods @lxoxtxtxi

[lunnybunny12]

Sandor Clegane X Reader (Your secret sworn shield)

Thank you to @1ofjokersgoons for the request

A/N: here you go hope you enjoy it. This my mind to all kinds of places so sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted.

Master list

Word count: 1,787

Warnings: Swearing, fighting

Your nose burned in the frigid air, and you squinted against the sun reflecting off of the armed men around you.

The cold wasn't something you were used to. Hells, you'd only ever seen snow twice in your life and you weren't exactly fond of it then either. Thankfully It was the summer when your father roped your family into his campaign across Westeros.

"You can always ride with your Mother of you're cold, princess, " Your father said in a mocking tone as he rode beside you.

"I'd rather lose a hand to frostbite," You chuckled, adjusting your position on the saddle.

You were the eldest of the Baratheon brood and the jewel of Roberts eye. Unlike your siblings, there was no mistaking you were your fathers daughter. You had the looks and grace of your mother, yes, but you also had the attitude, appetite for fighting and signature brown/black hair of a Baratheon.

" And father please don't call me princess. You know how much I hate it,"

"Ah but that's the issue young lady, you ARE a princess and I want you to act like one. When we're at home you can come on hunts and roam about all you like, but not here. At Winterfell you need to put on those dresses you hate so much and you will watch your tongue in front of the Starks. Am I clear?"

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Your father had been saying this for the past week in not no nice ways but you understood full well why. One reason being that he was the only one you'd listen to. The second was that since you were born a girl, the Iron throne could never be yours. Your place as the eldest princess was to be wedded off to whomever your father deemed worthy of you, and thankfully (since the king held you in such high regard) that day was long overdue.

"Fine... But I want Clegane."

"The Hound? What need do you have of him?"

"If you want me to be a lady I will, but if I get attacked I can't protect myself properly while wearing heels and a bloody corset. I need a shield."

Another chuckle left your father. This time it wasn't out of cheer it was more in amusement.

"Ay you have the mind of a Lannister"

"One of the few good things that family gave me," you smiled.

When you got to Winterfell later that day it was a relief, to say the least. As much as you enjoyed the outdoors and hunting around the red keep, the warmth the castle provided was a godsend. It seemed like everyone from the north had arrived to catch a glimpse of your family but it's not like it was hard to miss. Your mother and siblings wore the bold Lannister red and their heir shone as brightly as the gold they mined. Your uncle Jamie in the white armour of the kings guard and you in the Baratheon colours, sat on your horse, taking it all in.

As you were getting ready for the feast a knock was heard on your chamber door. An audible gasp was heard from your chamber made then they saw the hound lumber into the room and holt at seeing you.

You were stood there in a long, (Favourite colour) dress with long sleeves and a matching cloak. Your hair had been styled the northern way, simple yet elegant. The southern styles were too fiddly for your taste.

"Ladies, you are dismissed" you said.

The women immediately scurried out of the door and shut it behind them with a heavy thunk. You smiled as you watched the man search the room for any threats or anyone that could eavesdrop. When he deemed it safe he was the one that spoke first.

"You wanted me, you got me. For the whole week"

"You're making it sound like a bad thing, my love"

"It is if I can't keep my hands off of you" he growled and pulled your hips to kiss you roughly.

You were 10 when Joffrey was born and he was more of a disappointment to you than anything else. He was brash, rude, inconsiderate, boorish, egotistical and above all a coward. If someone. When he was younger hed always be at your heels, annoying you to no end and constantly tried to get you in trouble (The keyword being tried) and since Sandor's purpose was to protect the future king, he was with you too. You ended up becoming his babysitter and whenever you were training the boy would shout and say nasty thing to make you lose your concentration. One day you had, had enough of his heckles and asked him to spar with you. However, instead of being a man and doing it himself, he sent his dog to do it for him.

"Clegane isn't always going to be with you little brother and neither will anyone else if you don't lose that sour attitude. So be a man, and spar with me yourself."

It was the way you said it that shook Clegane. He expected you to lose your rag or just leave the training area all together but instead, you talked like you would a scared child. Calm and collected yet firm. As expected Joffery took the challenge, lost and then whined about it like the boy he was.

You parted from the kiss with a cheeky grin as you held his neck in your hands, making him shiver.

"You've controlled yourself before Sandor, and you can do it again,"

"You put far too much trust in me Princess"

"No Sandor I put all of my trust in you. and don't call me princess."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days had passed since the feast and you didn't like who you pretended to be. You didn't like the dress or hair or corset but it kept your parents off of your scent for a while. A couple of times you were able to sneak off with Sandor and do your own thing and since you were there to keep up appearances, you weren't missed.

One evening as you were walking across the courtyard, you heard a scuffle coming from behind the stables. You were met with a fully stocked armoury and training area. The walls were lined with a variety of weapons, from knives and slingshots to swards and axes. You reached your gloved hand towards a sword a sudden voice made you jump.

"Be careful, your grace. They're sharp"

It was one of the Stark boys. He was on the older side, about the same age as you may be a tad bit younger. Admittedly you'd been too caught up in being with Sandor that you hadn't taken the time to know your hosts.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you, your grace,"

"Don't worry about it... um... sorry I'm so bad with names" You said to the black-haired boy.

"Robb Stark, your grace," He answered kissing your hand.

A deep growl came from behind you, and an amused smile crossed your face. Sandor knew full well the boy was just being polite but he felt protective of you regardless.

"and please be careful around the swords they are sharp. We can't have a lady hurting her self,"

The tone Robb used was like he was talking to a child that couldn't tell the difference between a knife and a toothpick. Sandor picked up on it too. He knew what you were going to do before you did.

From what the boy had said he wasn't aware of your training, nor your personality in general and a fake, sheepish, smile spread across your face.

"Well I have had a little bit of training in how to fight but since I came to Winterfell I've forgotten most of it... you look like you know a few things do you mind catching me up?" You said, acting naive and from the look Robb gave you, it worked like a charm.

Robb agreed to "help" you and took you into the training area. He introduced you to Theon Greyjoy and his half brother Jon Snow.

Sandor watched as you continued your act with an almost invisible smile. Whenever you were in the Red Keep you were a completely different person, you were you but god's did he find that facade entertaining.

By that point, Rob had shown you how to hold a sword, jab and do a couple of swings and before you knew it you were going to spar.

"Are you ready, your grace?"

"I'm a little scared" you answered in fake concern.

"Don't worry your highness, I'll take it easy on you"

You could hear the boys chuckle in the corner of the arena and you knew they were laughing at you... or at least Greyjoy was. Sandor had taken it upon himself to stand by the pair and tell them to hush and watch the show.

The second Robb called "go" you swiped his legs out from under him, knocking him flat on his ass.

"Oh sorry," you snickered "I did tell you I had some training didn't I?"

The Stark stood up and brushed himself off. "Its alright princess, let's go again shall we?"

Almost immediately he lunged at you again, that time you blocked his sword with yours and then knocked him down.

Round after round Robb lost and each time your smile grew.  By the tenth round, Robb had finished "Taking it easy" on you and you were completely fine with that, If he wanted to hurt you he would have done it already. It was all in good fun and after one more knockdown, Robb yielded.

"Nice skills Stark, your father should be proud" You said as you walked up to him and extended your hand to pull him up.

With a smirk, he grabbed your hand. "Likewise your majesty. Although you could have told me before I made a fool of myself"

"Aww and wheres the fun in that?" You said handing the boy the practice sword. "Its been a pleasure Lord Stark that was quite entertaining, but I must bid you good night."

As you walked to the exit of the arena you saw Theon and Jon looking at you gobsmacked.

"Have a good evening Gentlemen." you bowed to the 3 of them and they bowed back.

Many, hot, steamy, lustful kisses were exchanged that night. Not out of jealousy or anger or hatred, but out of pure infatuation. After a particularly long kiss, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Do you know what you did today?"

"No."

"You made me fall in love with you,"

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part VIII

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,165

Note: Leave your thoughts please! 💛

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9

“I don’t want to leave King’s Landing! What about you and Tommen? No one can separate us! Please Y/N, I don’t want to go to Dorne.” Myrcella was weeping holding you tight by the waist.

“You’ll be safer in Dorne, little one. It’s dangerous if you stay. I promise you I’ll visit Sunspear as soon as I can. They will give you a warm welcome. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?” You keep saying to ease her worries. She’ll be just fine, you thought.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You are my sister. We’ll be in each other’s hearts till the end of time.” You wiped her tears.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Myrcella.” Sansa greeted you. Another two courtiers arrived to be with her.

“Lady Sansa, I love your dress! Did you make it yourself?” Myr announced.

“Yes, princess.” She chuckled.

“You should teach me how to do this beautiful stitching. Sadly we don’t have the time.”

“I’ll send you a golden gown as a present on your nameday” She grinned and went off to play hide & seek with the ladies. “You are going to miss your sister.” Sansa said.

“A lot. But I know it has a purpose. She’s strong.” You nodded.

“Just like you. I miss Arya. We had a complicated relation, she was always so annoying and I was a brat. I should have cherished the moments we had together. She’s out there all alone.” With a sad voice she spoke.

“We will find her.”

“May I ask you something?” She doubtfully inquired.

“Anything.”

“You don’t like to be around Joffrey?”

“No. And I’m glad he hardly ever request my presence. We had a messy childhood. I’ve been closer to my siblings since they were born. They brought light to my life. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for them.”

“I admire you, Y/N.” You smiled.

“Lady Sansa, do you fancy poetry?”

“I do! It’s very romantic.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. I made you a poem... you inspired me. Here it goes...

Big vivid blue eyes

Gentler than the ocean sea

Long silky auburn locks

Warmer than a sunset

This a lady, a lady who will own the world.”

You created it the very first day you meet her, of course, you wouldn’t recite it to her when you barely knew each other. It was way too short but it meant something.

“Woah... Y/N I’m speechless. You are so sweet. I don’t deserve a friend like you.” Right, friend.

“Of course you do.” You said. She kissed your cheek the same way you kissed hers the other night. Swiftly and subtly. Gods it felt so good. If anyone was watching they could see how blushed you two were.

“May I ask specifically what the King has in mind?” Tyrion was weary of his sister’s stubbornness.

“You may, specifically, or you may ask vaguely. The answer will be the same.” She nonchalant answered.

“It’s important we talk about this.” He insisted.

“It’s the King’s royal prerogative to withhold sensitive information from his councilors.” Cersei was looking from the balcony to the gardens the longing stare Sansa had on you. You watched with a heavy heart over the younger princess so you weren’t paying much attention. The Queen Regent didn’t like the idea of that kind of closeness between you both. She didn’t suspect anything either, not more than devotion the northern lady held for Y/N. Still, it bothered her you always stood up for her. “That whore should stay away from my daughter.” She declared.

“Why? It seems they get along pretty well, your son loves to torture her. She found someone who treats her right. I don’t quite understand the reason you’re mad about it.”

“She’s poisoning her. Manipulating her. Y/N is so naive. That girl thinks she has her under her claws at her disposition.”

“What you are saying doesn’t make any sense. They are just girls. What harm can they do to each other?

“Will you send her away as well? Maybe you should have considered Y/N instead of Myrcella.”

“You haven’t changed a bit. Still so bitter and distant with Y/N. She knows how to fight, how to defend herself. She’s brave. Just like her father Robert Baratheon was. Only three of your four children are sane. But I’m really curious about this... how can you put one of them above the other? Being so hurtful with your actions and your words, Y/N experienced that. Where were you when she needed you the most?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I love her. In my own way. She’s my blood, and for good or for bad, blood is for life.” Tyrion let out a tired sighed of disbelief. Then he left.

“My friend...” Varys approached you.

“What news, Lord Varys?”

“Your uncle Renly. He’s dead.”

“How?”

“He was stabbed in the heart. Some say it was Lady Catelyn Stark, his own Kingsguard, and others Stannis Baratheon himself. We don’t know for sure.” You knew this was a high possibility due to the quarrel between Stannis and Renly, though it was soon you were pretty sad about the fact he’s gone. He was always good to you.

It was the day Myrcella was leaving home to be in an unknown place. She was terrified, truth be told you were too but you had to remain strong and positive.

“My lioness, I’m sure the next time we see each other you’ll be even more beautiful. Five years, twenty years, we’ll always be the same.” You were trusting Dorne to take care of her.

“Just a bit older. Who is going to stay with me when I have a nightmare or when-“

“As father told me, don’t be scared even in the face of danger. You will never be alone. I love you.” You kissed her forehead bidding her goodbye.

“Promise you will never forget about me Y/N.”

“I promise.”

“May the seven guide the princess on her journey...”

Tommen was sobbing, the septa cleaned his face. You held him whispering she was going to be safe and soon enough you’ll be seeing her again.

“You sound like a cat meowing for his mother. Princes don’t cry.” Joffrey hissed with his arms folded. You were to busy comforting your baby brother to pay him any attention.

“I saw you cry.” Sansa blunted out.

“Did you say something, my lady?” He turned to her.

“My little brother cried when I left Winterfell.”

“So?”

“It seems a normal thing.”

“Is your little brother a prince?”

“No?”

“Not really relevant, isn’t it?” He irritably replied.

“Some people care for their siblings, you don’t care for any of us. That’s why you are so stone-hearted about it.” You kept looking at Myrcella almost gone boat. He gave you a withering look before walking. Sansa was emotionless, perhaps because of her younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. Hopefully, they were alright.

“Come, dog.”

You followed the guards. In the hall, a crowd started to yell things at the King. Tommen was taken back to the Keep while your mother and you stayed close to each other, she held your hand.

“Hail to the King!”

“Murderer! Bastard!”

“Please your grace, we are hungry!”

Suddenly a piece of cow excrement was thrown to his arrogant face. “Who threw that? I want the man who threw that! Find him and bring him to me! Kill them! Kill them all!” Sansa handmaidens were keeping her close. The Lannister guardsmen shielded you and Cersei while the folk tried to get to your eldest brother. They were rioting, it was chaos.

“Move, move!” Tyrion ducked his head. You tried to follow the tall girl but she left your sight.

You entered a big gate to safety. “Where’s the Stark girl?” Tyrion shouted.

“Let them have her!” Joffrey furiously screamed.

Wasting no time you ran to the exit not caring about the riot happening outside.

You entered a short corridor, almost tripping by your feet. When you found her she was on the ground with her clothes ripped off, crying while trying to break free from the man’s grip.

“Have you ever been fucked?” You heard the disgusting person say.

“Take your hands off her!” You pushed one of them and hit him. The other flee and the last punched you in the stomach and then slapped you. The northerner was terrified. In that precise moment, before you kept fighting, The Hound arrived and spun the leader down, then disemboweled him, the second begged for mercy, resulting in him cutting his throat. He first offered to help you what you refused so he could carry the Stark girl. She was in shock.

Now you were in the gated area. You heavily sighed. “The Princess is hurt! So is the little bird.”

“Thank you, Sandor.” He nodded.

“Y/N! Are you alright? Did the assailants do something to you?” Tyrion worriedly asked you.

“No, no I’m fine.” You shook your head, trying to catch your breath.

“That was stupid.”

“Well, Joffrey is a slow thinker.”

“Your mother is going to be so angry about this.”

“I don’t care, uncle. You know it.” You smiled at him and he shook his head in disapprove. “My lady. They will take you back to the Red Keep. I will personally treat your wounds okay?”

“You already have done too much, my princess. I-“

“Please.” She nodded. “I’ll be with you in a few moments.”

You entered Cersei’s chambers, she was expecting you. Both hands on her waist. “What the hell were you thinking?! Are you an idiot? I’ve sent one of my daughters away and now the other is almost raped and killed the same day!” She was all hysterical.

“Mother, your son wasn’t deciding. Someone had to. Without Lady Sansa we’ll never see Jaime again. I’m the only person who cares for the innocent people? I wouldn’t let them hurt her.” You fought back.

“She is not worth risking your life for. You are trying to follow your father to the grave! It’s not about honor. It’s about your safety. I can’t lose you, Y/N.” She argued.

“You won’t.” You walked out leaving her with a mad expression.

“She was so brave Shae! She came to my aid when I thought those people were going to hurt me. She’s so fearless.”

“It was a very silly act. Things could have gotten worse.”

“But they didn’t. Sandor also helped. But Y/N,s boldness is remarkable.” Shae peered at her knowing what Sansa really meant.

You knocked on the redhead door. “I hope it’s not too late. My mother kept talking, I couldn’t wiggle my way out.” You excused yourself.

“Come in. I was waiting for you. Shae insisted on do it herself.”

“Princess. My lady.”

“Goodnight, Shae. She’s in good hands.” She gave you a little smile.

“Did you have supper already?”

“Yes, I took a quick bath too.” Sansa gestured you to sit down.

“I see. Your hair is still wet.” You quipped.

“You saved me. Again.” She began.

“Actually, Sandor saved us. I’m glad I arrived in time.”

“I thought they were going to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t let them. I won’t let anyone touches you ever again. I’m sorry. It must have been very frightening to you.”

“It was. You rescued me. I’m so grateful, Y/N. But your life is way more important than mine. Stop doing it.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You took the kerchief smearing in it some ointment.

“I’m serious. You are very brave. I don’t want you to get seriously injured because of me.” She insisted, more serious this time.

“I wouldn’t blame you. No harm will come to you while I’m around. I mean it. What I wouldn’t do to save you?”

“You are so stubborn. I would have given them bread if I had it. I hate the King more than any of them.”

“I know you would and I know you do, we share the same feeling about him.”

“Oh, gods! I’m a fool! I didn’t notice until now that you are also hurt.” She concernedly acknowledged.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brushed it off.

“Of course it does.”

“You first.” With the fabric, you began to swab her eyebrow cut.

“Auch.”

“It’s not deep. Does it hurt?”

“A little. What about yours?” She carefully touched your lower lip with her thumb.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Let me clean it.” You found her eyes staring at your lips.

“The-the cut will disappear soon.” She stuttered.

“I won’t.” She looked up yo meet your eyes.

“What?”

“I won’t stop risking my life to keep you safe.” Not only you were doing this for the promise you made to Lady Catelyn, or because it was the right thing to do, not even for honor or recognition, but because you were falling harder and harder for her, you were deeply in love with the she-wolf.

[xxcorndogxx]

Sandor Clegane x Reader||Chapter Twenty Five

The ice has surely frozen over by now. Sandor bends down. He picks up a rock. He looks at the walkers. He winds up and tosses it. The rock knocks off one's jaw.

"Well, shit," I mumble.

It doesn't even move.

"Dumb cunt," Sandor grumbles.

He picks up another and tosses it to. This one's bigger and doesn't go as far. It slides across the ice and stops at the walker's feet. It looks down.

"Oh fuck," Sandor grumbles.

I start walking towards us. We all stand ready. More and more approach. This is it.

"Fuck it." Sandor walks up and bashes the walker.

At first, it's easy pickings. They're all spread out pretty well. Sandor pulls me by my arm into his chest before one I didn't see can hack my head off. I nod at him and cut through it. This steel is magic. Soon enough they start coming in like groups. Sandor stops his hammer and pulls out an ax. He watches my back and I watch his.

"Fall back!" Jon calls after a while of fighting. "Fall back!"

"Come on!" Tormund calls.

As soon as he does he is overrun by white walkers. I move to save him but Sandor pushes me back and gets him instead. As swing down hacking one's head off, one moves to stab right through Sandor. My blade meets his and I swing it away and kick the walker back knocking him and a few others behind him over. One grabs my leg and pulls me to my back. I twist to my front trying to crawl away. More and more claw at my legs.

"Sandor!" I call to him as he hacks through a walker.

He turns to me, a panicked look on his face. He rushes over, he pulls me off the ground with one hand and chops off their arms with the other. He lifts me up and holds me. He sets me behind him and takes out three more. They close in from all sides. We fight our hardest. We all look at each other as we fight. We know this is the end. They roar of a dragon is heard. I look up and duck as a dragon swoops over and rains fire on all the white walkers. We watch as the dragons come to our rescue. The dragon queen riding one. She lands it. Sandor lifts the white walker over his shoulder once more. After Sandor climbs up he pulls me on. Jon still fighting. Suddenly one of the dragons comes crashing down. It sinks down into the icy water. That was one of her children. I subconsciously place my hand on my stomach.

"Go! Now! Leave!" Jon cries out.

I feel Sandor's hand over mine on my stomach. We take off. Sandor catches Jorah. I look down at how high we are. I close my eyes tight. My fingers clutching Sandor's hand hard.

"Little dove?"

"You fear fire, love. I fear heights, more so falling from them."

He holds me tight against him.

"I won't let you fall, little dove." He kisses my head.

I follow behind Sandor to the boat. Sandor plops him down. I can barely stand. I grab onto Sandor's arm before I stumble over. He nods to Tormund.

"We'll meet again, Clegane," Beric says.

"Fucking hope not." Sandor jokes.

Sandor lifts me up. He carries me as we walk away.

"Come on, little dove. You need to rest."

"Sandor."

I place my hand on his cheek.

"We're alive, you can relax now. I'm alright, you're alright. We're okay."

He sighs.

"But we still need to tend to your wounds." He says in a more relaxed voice.

I stand on the deck. My eyes closed, my hand resting on my stomach. The hair weaving through my hair as well as the fabric of my dress. Yes, my dress. Coming so close to death makes me appreciate being alive. The soft thudding of footsteps behind me. Sandor voice in my ears.

"Little dove." He coos. He places his hand over mine on my stomach. "You look so beautiful here in the sun. The wind grazing your pretty skin."

He then kisses all over my cheek. I laugh and playfully try to push him off. He wraps his arms around the back of my legs and lifts me up. I place my hands on his shoulders looking down at him. A smile on his face. For once, his eyes... they aren't sad. He looks happy. I smile. Tears pricking my eyes. His face turns to worry.

"Are you alright?"

He sets me down.

"Yes, love." I place a hand on his face. "I'm just so happy." I pull his forehead to meet mine. I bite my lip. "Let's just leave, Sandor. Runaway from everything. Go live out our lives peacefully. Forget all this."

"You know I want to, little dove. We can't, you know that."

"I know." I sigh.

I press my lips to his. His fingers lightly curled in the fabric of my dress. The kiss is tender and loving. He places his hand against my stomach.

That night we lay in bed. He sets down his cup of ale and groans. He comes to lay with me. He rests his head next to my stomach. He lifts my dress and places light kisses to the growing bump.

"Hello, little one." Since Sandor heard that the child can hear voices from inside, he's talked to my stomach. "I want to hold you in my arms as soon as I can but I'm also glad that you aren't here yet. This world is so messy." His fingers lightly draw circles on my skin. "We're doing all we can to make this place better for you." He kisses my stomach. "I promise, my child. I'll do my best to give you anything you want." He mumbles against my stomach.

I don't realize I'm crying until Sandor does. He climbs up me. He doesn't wipe my tears. He simply presses his lips softly to mine. He brushes my hair from my face as he does.

"Sandor." I pant into the kiss.

"Yes, my angel."

"I love you, with all my heart and all my soul."

"As do I, I love you with all my being. You are mine and I am yours." He whispers. I smile against his lips. I clench my teeth grunting. There's a strange feeling in my stomach. Like a painless squeezing in my lower abdomen. "Are you alright?" He asks. "Yes, it didn't hurt. It just felt strange."

The next day we reach King's Landing. I wear a thin dress, it flows, not much fabric. Easy to pee in. Others would be cold but I am used to the cold. The cool breeze on my skin feels lovely. Sandor carries me. His arm hooked under me and my legs around him. I rest my head on his should and my hand on my stomach. The queens' men come to meet us. I see Brienne. That oaf. If I get the chance I'll kill her. Her eyes roll over Sandor but graze across my visible stomach. Her eyes meet mine. We continue on. Sandor pulling the horse along with the hand not holding me.

"What's in there?" The guard asks.

"Fuck off," I grumble.

We walk alongside Brienne and my fingers clutch the fabric on my stomach.

"I thought you were dead." She speaks.

"Not yet. You came pretty close." Sandor grumbles.

"I was only trying to protect them. Arya, and you Lady Y/n."

"You and me both." He agrees.

"I can see Lady Y/n didn't need protection from you."

"Aye."

"She's alive, Arya."

"Where?" I ask looking at her.

"Winterfell."

I nod.

"Who's protecting her if you're here?" Sandor asks.

"The only one that needs protecting is the one that gets in her way."

"It won't be me," Sandor says.

You know. I don't really hate Brienne. I understand why she did what she did. She thought we were prisoners. She wanted to save us, protect us. I get it.

"Sandor," I whisper.

"What?"

"I have to pee." I pout.

"Nows not the time, love."

He kisses my forehead. Sandor hand off the horse to a guard.

"Anyone touches it, I'll kill you first." He threatens.

We walk to the meeting area. Sandor sets me down. I keep my hand on my stomach as we walk. The other holding Sandor's hand. Sandor looks around. We walk over to Tyrion.

"I left this shit city because I didn't want to die in it," Sandor confesses. "Am I gonna die in this shit city?" He asks.

"You might." He admits.

His hand mindlessly circling my stomach.

"And this is all your idea. Seems every bad idea has some Lannister cunt behind it." He grumbles.

"And some Clegane cunt to help them see it through."

Cleaver comeback. Sandor pulls me to stand with him as the queen approaches. Her eyes fall on me and my stomach. Her face was unreadable. Sandor's eyes, however, watch his brother. He starts to walk forward. I move to follow and he stops me.

"Stay, little dove."

He approaches his brother.

"Remember me?" He asks. "Yeah, you do." He grumbles. "You're even fucking uglier than I am now. What did they do to you? It doesn't matter. That's not how it ends for you, brother." Sandor. Is he trying to reach out to his brother? An attempt at making amends? "You know who's coming for you. You've always known." He turns and walks away.

Probably to get the walker. Cersi asks where Daenerys is. She then looks at me.

"Lady Y/n." She smiles. "It's been a long time, come here. I can hardly see you all the way over there."

I approach.

"Ah, still as beautiful as always."

"Thank you, your grace."

"Look at you. Pregnant with The Hounds pup."

There's poison in her words. Gregory's eyes meet mine and it sends chills through my soul.

"Aye, I am with his child."

I place my hand on my stomach. Not breaking his eye contact.

"Well, I wish you the best. I hope he makes you happy." She smiles.

"He does. Thank you, your grace."

I bow walking back to my place. We wait for our queen to arrive. Daenerys rides in on her dragon. She comes to join us. I excuse myself to pee when no one's paying attention to me. Sweet, sweet release. I take my time coming back. I keep my hand over my stomach as I walk.

"Hello, I haven't spoken to you yet. You'll probably favor your father after hearing his voice so much. But this is your mother." My hand rubbing small circles. "Your father hopes you're a girl. But I ensure you, boy or girl he will love you just the same. He will always love you. As will I."

I feel weird talking with my stomach. But I want my child to hear my voice if he can hear. My feet hurt so bad. I stop walking and lean against the entrance to where the meeting is.