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middleearthsdreams · 2 months

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New World

Chapter 3

A/N: I feel like this is rushed, but anywaays. I'm sorry for the long wait, it's hard to update while studying :')). How are ya'll doing?

Warnings: attempted S/A, Smut, (no proof read)

Enjoy <3

chapter 1 / chapter 2

You know those tv shows, right? Where they strand famous people on a deserted island and they have to go on with what they can. Well, now you know that’s a bunch of bullshit. Because it’s been so many days, you’ve lost count, and you haven’t been able to wash yourself. All the dirt, mud and oil that’s formed on your face – and not just the face.

You smelled very badly, feeling so sorry for it. You didn’t feel comfortable smelling this horribly around people. Especially the ones you’re forced to ride with, chest to back. Sandor didn’t mind – of course – he smelt just as bad as you. If not more. But it wasn’t just that. You had to eat what Sandor could hunt: small squirrels, bunnies, sometimes berries and all things you find in the wild. Your stomach wasn’t very used to these poor meals, all made of meat. Sandor offered to bring you along while he hunted, but you just couldn’t. You’re too used to your soft and gentle world: where the meat was covered in plastic bags. You know you’ll have to learn someday: hunting is the only way to eat around here. Well, mostly killing. But you’re not ready to watch an animal die, even less by your hands.

You’re not complaining, at all. You’re glad you have someone as resourceful as Sandor to accompany you. He could sometimes be blunt and rough, but he’s a good company. He’s been nothing but a gentleman: a gentleman who curses a lot. Not that you’d mind. He’s the one that wasn’t used to women cursing. The only woman he heard talking like this was Cersei. When you did the first time, he was shocked to say the least. As shocked as his careless being could allow on his facial features. After these few days he understood that this is your way of speaking, only giving you a look whenever you did. Curses aside, he’s been very gentle with you. If you didn’t want to hunt, he didn’t force his hand. You wanted to stop to catch some pretty flowers, he didn’t oppose. You wanted to cook, he’d let you and praise your “well done squirrel”. You cried about your family, which you missed dearly, and he held you. His gentleness was indeed very contrasting with the raw wildness.

But, as much as you didn’t want to annoy him, you had to stop by the river.

“It’s been too long since I last bathed” You explain, the horrid smell invading your nostrils. “And since it’s sunny I can wash my clothes” You point out then “our clothes”. Sandor takes a minute to think. He knows that if it was just him, he wouldn’t mind being this nasty or smelling this much. He would go days with the same stains attached to his undershirt. But you were close to the Brotherhood enough. He’s just waiting for the right moment to get the Stark girl, bring her home. And make a good amount out of it, of course. He hadn’t told you his plans but you knew. You won’t have many chances to take care of yourselves, running form the Brotherhood and all. That’s why you think it’s a nice day to just stop and take a minute to wash up.

Sandor nods “Aye”.

He dismounts Stranger, then helps you get down. As always, his hands cause shivers to form on your sides. He puts you down, like you weighted nothing to him. You grow flustered a little bit more every day.

“I’m gonna catch something first, to eat…” He says, scratching his head. You nod sceptical. You had enough to eat for a few more days, so why was he- “Hold on, do you have some soap?” You have to yell to reach him, he’s already running for it in the woods. He stops and says “Left side pouch” then leaves, disappearing in the green. He’s acting weird, you think. You shake your head, caressing stranger on the side. Your hand reaches down in the skin bag, taking out a few things. A small knife, a piece of carved wood, a comb – you smile at that – and, in the end, you find the soap. You can’t believe he actually has it and, most of all, uses it. But it looks pretty much used, thank god.

It’s when you start to undress that you understand why he was acting weird. You couldn’t bathe together, obviously. And a gentleman again, he is. The embarrassment burns in your cheeks, but soon dissolves. The calm and warm water envelops your body, you have to hold back a moan. The creek is tall enough to cover you entirely, only when you’re sitting down. You put the dirty clothes on a nearby rock, enjoying the quietness. Pulling your head back you let your hair dive in the water. You could stay like this forever. The sun hitting your skin below the water, which is so clear and blue. If you look close enough you can see a few small fishes swimming by. You take your sweet time to use the soap, shivering by the satisfaction of being clean. A smile creeps up on your lips: the soap smells of lavender.

You’ve just finished washing your clothes, when you hear someone coming out of the trees. You don’t mind at first, being turned back. Sandor must have forgotten something, and the water covers you enough not to be seen. Then you hear Stranger neighing harshly. “Ain’t you a pretty thing” An unknown voice says. You glance back so suddenly you hurt your neck. Your hands move to cover yourself at lightspeed. You inspect the three men quickly, searching for barrels or weapons. Your eyes widen, terror filling you to the bone. Lannisters. And they’re all armed, sword at hand. The biggest out of the three speaks again “What’re ye doing all alone, pretty girl?”. They surround you, blocking all the possible exits. You know you wouldn’t be fast enough to run. Your insides boil, if only you had kept the small knife at hand. But what could you do against these grown men, trained to fight and with swords too? Your tiny knife would dwarf their mighty steel. You’re frozen.

“Come here, now love” The skinny one says. His face in scarred and eyes dangerous. You don’t move, not even breathing. You wish you could move, try to say something back or yell so that Sandor could hear you. But your body doesn’t respond. The same man says “I won’t ask a second time”. His dirty boots touch the water, getting close. You have to look up at him. That’s when you decide he’s too close. You stand up, opting for doing it yourself rather than having him touching you. You don’t know how long you could avoid their touch, but you want to prolong that moment nonetheless. “There you are” He says, his hand coming close to your side. You hear a faint sound, then you clearly see something moving behind the trees. You heart jumps in your throat: it’s him! You smile and whisper “You’re screwed”. That’s when you see the tall and dark shadow of Sandor. His sword cutting one man in half, not giving the time to process what’s happening to the big one close to him. The one in front of you turns back, horrified by the slaughter of his men, but doesn’t have much time to respond. Blood splutters on your chest, the pointy end of Sandor’s sword coming out of the man’s back. Behind it there’re his dark eyes and half burned face looking back at you. A wild glimpse. There’s quiet again. The sun hitting your bloodied skin.

You stand still. Sandor throws the man’s corpse away, like it weighted nothing to him. Again. Maybe it’s because he just came back from a hunt or the fresh kills, but he’s got a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The furrow of his brow casting shadows on his cheek, his facial muscles tight. His teeth are showing because of the heavy breathing. You’re trembling. Your eyes never leaving his, you don’t know what to say. You want to thank him, but you know if you open your mouth you might cry. But still, you want to thank him. You decide to move, very slowly, and take his sword out of his hands. You let it fall. He doesn’t say a thing, as you take his armour off. He lets you slip his undershirt off, revealing his hairy chest. Your cheeks burn but you’re adamant. You put his shirt on the dirty clothes rock, ready to be washed. When you turn around you kneel, ready to take his pants off too. You start to untie his breaches but he stops you “No need”. He kneels to you and sits, letting the water wash away the blood and dirt. You resume the soap and scrub his shoulders gently. You don’t meet his eyes this time, being too close. You sit between his spread legs, your body still naked. You should feel embarrassed for it, but it’s not because you’re bare in front of him that is making you feel nervous. It’s the closeness, the feeling of his intense gaze on you. The fact that he accepts your touch is a win, you think. As your hands massage him and clean his chest you dare a quick glance to his face. His lips are so close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks. His black eyes lock you in, not giving you a chance to leave so soon. You can feel his heartbeat from under your palms on his chest, it’s quickening. You have to lean your head back to maintain eye contact, even when you’re both sitting down. His lips open then close, not sure what to say. He looks like in a trance. You don’t want to break the spell. “I made a mess… the blood” He stutters out, pointing to your chest. You look down to your bloodied breasts, shrugging. He keeps his gaze on your eyes, and you’re thankful for that. Ever the gentleman, even in this situation. You snicker lightly, moving your hand to his hair. You shake your head and finally find your voice “You first”. You scrub the soap there, then hesitate, your hand a few inches from his scar. “Can I?” You ask in the tiniest voice. He looks like he’s fighting a storm in his mind, then nods, taking your hand in his and leading it to his burned side. You sigh relieved, refraining from gasping at the touch. Once you’re done cleaning him up you move to stand again. His hands stop you, grasping your sides gently but firmly. You kneel back between his legs, holding onto his shoulders. Your face is so close to his, you have to hold very tight to stop yourself from kissing him. It looks like he’s going through the same self-restraint. You wait there, minutes passing by. The hot sun dried your hair long time ago.

“Can I?” He asks, taking the soap from your hand. You don’t get it at first; then he looks down, below your neck. You squirm on the inside, ready to scream from the excitement. You don’t answer, but take his hand and guide it to your blood covered breasts. He doesn’t hesitate, diving into your flesh roughly. You have to hold back a moan, grasping his shoulders tighter. He focuses on cleaning you, at first. His black pools watching the supple flesh moving around in his hands. You feel the centre of your legs burn, aching to be touched. All the wait and expectation slowly building up your excitement. Until it finally explodes. He throws the soap on the ground, growling. His lips smash into yours so forcefully he has to hold your back tightly. You lock your arms behind his neck, kissing him back with almost the same strength. He engulfs you entirely, pushing you down but you push up into him. You grip his hair in a fist, pulling lightly; just enough to make him groan. The sound vibrates on your toungue, making you shiver and moan back. Your teeth clash, toungue diving into each other. You long to hear him once more: you pull his hair again. The sweet moans he makes, so low they shake all through your entire body. You gasp back for air, heavy breathing on his cheek. He grunts – of course – bending down to kiss your neck. You move your head to grant him more access, rubbing your hands into his hair tenderly. You don’t dare speak right now, although there’s so many things you want to tell him. Your heart is taking leaps inside your chest. The hairs of his body tickle you making you giggle; his teeth take a bite between your shoulder and neck. Your breath hitches, a half-moaned gasp escapes you. “S-sandor” You can’t help but hold yourself on him, his hands descending from your back to the soft skin of your ass. He squeezes lightly then moves further down, gripping the back of your thighs. You groan at the slow teasing, deciding to sit on his crotch, tying your feet behind his back. He smiles, more like simpers, keeping you anchored there. His lips come back up to kiss you, eating your face off hungrily. You can only hold his face for dear life, gasping at the bulge under you. You have to close your eyes. Your core finally knows some satisfaction, you grind slowly onto him. The water slows your movements, making you groan. He holds your thighs spread open, moving his hips slowly. A low rumble vibrates from your mouth straight to your clit.

That’s when you open your eyes. The dream stops.

“Sandor” You say, trying to separate yourself from him. It’s almost painful to do so, but those eyes stare back at you. Their corpses lay under the sun, white and cold. Puddles of blood form under them. Sandor keeps grinding and kissing your neck, not getting your change of mood.

“Please, wait-” You take his face away from you, forcing him to look you in the eye. He frowns, confused. You point your head back to the bodies; he follows your gaze. You sigh, heartbroken. He lowers his head, silently cursing under his breath. You don’t want to leave his warm embrace, putting your cheek on his shoulder. He keeps on holding your legs, standing up with you. Breeze brushes your back, you hug him tighter. He sets you on a prominent rock, which is warm thankfully. As he turns to leave you grab his wrist. He looks at you, letting you guide him down for a soft kiss. He accepts it gladly.

“Let me help you” You say, standing up to put on your grey shorts and tank top. They’re the clothes you had when you first arrived here, and the only ones that have dried up. He stands, shirtless and wet, looking at the dead bodies. “Where they the first men you saw die?” He asks. You can’t see his expression, his hair cascading down his face, covering his eyes. You nod “Yes”. Yes, it shocked you to see them die. But if he didn’t… maybe you wouldn’t be here. You know how these men work, how they think of women. They would have used you and then slit your throat. Just a few hours ago you thought you would never want to see an animal die. Now here you are, three dead men in front of you and you feel glad. You’re so glad to be with him.

He sighs sadly. He’s shown you what a real monster he is, his true self. He’s just an ugly monster, he thinks. You come up to his side, looking for his eyes “And I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, you know that right?”. You know that he doesn’t want to be touched right now, so you don’t, but nobody forbids you to search for his sad eyes. You want to change that. “Let me help you” You repeat, pointing to the corpses “What can I do?”. He looks at you grumpily, but takes your hands in his “I did this, I have to fix it”. He kisses your knuckles “Can you wash my clothes?” he asks. You roll your eyes, but nod. “I can do that, then I come and help you” You say firmly. He grunts but shakes his head ‘yes’, leaving your hands. You go to the creek again, retrieving the abandoned soap. The spell is broken.

When the bodies are buried and gone, the clothes dried up and the fire is going, a beautiful dusk sets on your heads. Sandor and you sit on the ground, close but not enough for your liking. After the events in the river you two only spoke a few words to each other. You’re worried he might tell you he doesn’t want you anymore, that it was a spur of the moment. So you don’t say anything. He didn’t touch you again and you didn’t try to do it to him, knowing it might upset him. The only way of knowing his emotions was by looking in his eyes. Which was a challenge, since he had his back turned all day. His beautiful, broad back. Now he’s wearing his clean shirt, the armour left aside. His eyes are lost in the flames, giving you his side profile. You have to look at his handsome features. His strong brow bone, his hairy jaw, that crocked nose.

“Stop looking at me like that”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the most beautiful man on this earth”

You stutter for a moment, making him sigh. You know where this is going. “I think you are” You say. And it’s true, you really think he’s one of the most handsome, gentle, kind and purest men on this earth. He laughs coldly “Tell me then: what do you see in me? Mh?”. He turns to look at you, he has to look you in the eyes while you lie to him. He doesn’t need someone to tell him, he’s been served the truth his entire life. Each time his brother succeeded and he did not. Every fucking time that brat Joffrey called him dog. Or every time a lady walked past him laughing. Every time he had to pay double the price to fuck a whore. The scar he wears is not just physical.

“I think you’re one of the most handsome, loyal and kind men on this earth” You begin, shushing him when he tries to say something “And I know that you’re also one of the most irritating, stubborn and self loathing men to have ever existed, which is completely human. You’re the truest man I know, the fact that you’ve seen all kinds of horrors and survived it makes you honourable. There’s no such thing as the perfect being, like tales and ballads describe heroes. They don’t exist. And I don’t want them. You’re not good, but nobody is. Why do you have to be better when nobody is? Why is it that you have to, like it’s a burden?” you ask.

He’s speechless, which worries you. He usually comes up with sarcastic remarks or blunt objections. He looks at you completely unreadable. You bite your bottom lip, maybe you’ve gone too far? You didn’t want to break him, you only wanted to be true to yourself. You look back down, holding your knees hugged to your chest. The sky going from a light pink to a deep purple. You feel cold in front of the fire.

“You’ll be the death of me”

A large hand takes your chin, making you turn your head. Sandor’s lips crash into yours, taking your breath away. Your hand lingers on his coarse cheek, stroking it ever so slightly. Finally, the fire warms you up. You decide which fire. The kiss is heartbreakingly kind, like he’s pouring his heart out into you. Your eyes water at the thought of him being vulnerable. You kiss him back fierce, a fire burning your chest. Things grow much more heated by the second. He backs off to go to your neck. Sandor’s toungue leaves goose bumps where it lands, making you gasp for air. The tip of his nose caressing the back of your neck. You take him by the shoulders, taking him off of you. The position was making your neck hurt. You make him sit back on his spot, sitting with your legs spread open again. You sit on his crotch, keeping your knees by his hips. He takes you by the sides, holding you still. He nears your face, looking from your lips to your eyes. “Sing for me, little girl” he growls in your ear. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, afraid of the dark: someone might be hearing. He slaps your ass harshly, reprimanding you “I said sing!”. He manhandles you to grind on his cock, making you gasp out a moan. The friction feels heavenly outside the water. He smirks, the sound making himself grow harder. His mouth attacks your collarbone, biting and sucking. You hold him by the neck, gripping his clean hair and pulling hard. You could play that game in two. He groans on your skin, your breasts jumping at the sound. It’s so good to make a quiet man moan your name. You untie the laces of his shirt, signalling for him to pull his arms up. Once you see that big chest you almost drool, his big arms hiding you entirely. You grind back faster, feeling way too close to the edge.

He can feel you going faster and decides to switch places, holding you on the ground beneath him. He grips your tank top and rips it off of you, diving into your chest. He leaves a trail of bites and sucks each nipple hard, making you scream from the pain and pleasure. The knot in your abdomen growing tighter, ready to snap. Your head feels like on cloud nine, you’re a hazy moaning mess. The grip on his hair only grows stronger, making him shiver from head to toes. His hands then grip on your shorts and rip those too. “Fuck these tiny clothes” He murmurs on your stomach, kissing his way down. His beard tickles you, making you giggle and hold back a laugh. However, you can only release a strangled moan: his toungue laps your slit top to bottom. It looks like he knows what he has to look for, to bring you pleasure. You’re shocked: not even some men in your world knew that, let alone someone on a medieval fantasy show. Your lips form a ‘o’ shape, the shocks of pleasure running all over your body. He licks and sucks on your clit with an intent, eyes set on you. He moans on your mound as you scratch his hair. The vibrations send you over the edge, feet tingling. You see and feel white, hot shock waves starting from your toes and ending on the tip of your head. Shivering and hot, you spasm against him, trying to lead him away from your sensitive cunt. He keeps your legs open wide with his strong hold, your weak tries are worthless. He laps and licks, drinking till the last drop of your juices. You have but a few moments to take a breath. Once he’s done he kneels, slapping your thigh for good measure. He unties his trousers and takes his cock in his hand. You want to rub your eyes, because you don’t believe the size of him. His hand – which is gigantic – holds his cock almost entirely, his fingers not touching though. It might be the orgasm or the hormones, but instead of scaring you it makes you grow wetter than before. A challenge you’re glad to accept.

“Ready to take me?”

“Ohh yess, please Sandor!”

To make sure it’ll fit, he turns you around and holds your hip high up. He pumps his length a few times, then rubs it along your juice coated pussy. You moan loudly, head pulled back to look at him while he enters you. The tip stretches you out good, not yet painfully. He goes slow, filling you up inch by inch, holding you by the waist. You know you’ll wake up filled with bruises. You start to hiss from the pain halfway through. You drool on the ground, knees scratched and ass in the air. He stops to let you breath, taking a moment to control himself too. His strong hold on you moves up and under your body, fingers tangling in your tits. He massages them and pulls on your nipples painfully hard, making you squeeze around his cock. He laughs darkly, sending shivers on your spine. You feel so good, yet not quite satisfied. You push your ass back slowly, finally sensing his lower abdomen on your skin. You sigh happily, the tip of his cock feeling deep inside your belly. He stutters, balls deep inside you. “Makin’ me go insane, little girl” He whispers in your ear “Don’t know if I can control myself”. His hips slam up, making you jump forward by the force. You scream, not caring two fucks if someone hears you. If it weren’t for his strong hold on your waist you would have slipped out, his strength feeling unhuman. You struggle to speak “Then- then don’t”. You don’t want him to control himself. You want to feel him truthfully.

He growls like an animal at your words, taking you by the shoulder and saying “Hold on tight then”. He pushes you down on the grass, pulling his hips back. He almost completely exits your entrance, leaving just the tip; you hold your breath. Nothing could have prepared you. You open your mouth on the dirt, no sounds leaving your mouth. You don’t find your voice, nor air in your lungs from the sudden intrusion in your womb. His hips hit you ass painfully, as does his tip inside you. His pushes so strong you jump upwards each thrust, his hips moving too fast not letting you breath. You feel sore already, your entrance burning from the stretch, ass red and aching by the position. You love it.

His hands move but you barely feel them, too caught in the sweet mixture of sensations. One hand grips your hair, pulling you back completely. “Fuuck” You yell, the new position stretching your insides out. The skin of your neck hurts but you finally get to touch him. You groan in his ear, his cock filling you so much more, now that you’re basically sitting on him. His other hand goes under your belly, holding you there. He pumps up into you. His grunts reach your ear, your arms going on his neck to grab his face. He bites the skin of your neck, hard enough to draw blood. You hiss in pain, the stinging of his teeth leaves a burning sensation. He licks the area to soothe the pain, sucking your blood away. You kiss his neck while trying to ride him as much as you can. The hand on your belly pushes, making you feel just how deep he is inside you. He moans “Feel h-here” taking your hand and leading it downwards. You look down and, with his help, press down. He leaps up and you can feel the tip of his cock moving inside of you. More wetness leaves your entrance at the sight, your eyes watering by the building pleasure. You push down on him more, taking his large hand now. You guide it down to your clit and he understands. He flicks and swirls the nub, edging you closer to your end. You ride with him now, straining the muscles of your thighs by the pressure. Your voices mix together, the sounds of slapping skin are of background. You turn your head, getting closer to his face. You don’t kiss him though, you just want to look at him while you cum. The fire light casts shadows on his face, the dips of his scar more evident. His black eyes shining in pleasure, half lidded and intense.

You gasp as you feel his dark gaze on you, looking down to see your doom. The tight knot in your womb is ready to snatch, he notices. His fingers move faster, getting close himself to the edge, stuttering violently. You feel the light tingle in your limbs, gasping for the last time and holding tightly on his neck. You grab for dear life on him; he holds you, trying to keep you up. The knot snaps and you feel liquid gush out of you, the pleasure too much to handle. “’s too good” Your insides grip him, milk him towards his end. He curses under his breath, biting you again. You feel him fill you up, balls slapping your clit, making you jump out of overstimulation. His last thrusts are the hardest, you don’t have the time to think that he just came inside. You feel like butter in his hands, and teeth – which are still gripping your neck. The last drops of your pleasure subside. He kisses your neck tenderly, apologizing silently for the roughness. You come to your senses when he moves slightly, your pussy aching. He positions you both on your sides, you feeling too weak to move on your own. Your thighs hurt too much.

He moves slowly to slip out of your entrance, making sure not to hurt you. You can only hiss silently, feeling your belly being emptied out. You touch there, the area sore and swollen. You smile sleepy, the cold grass making contrast with your hot skin. Sandor gets up shakily, using your ripped shorts to clean you up. How many times have you washed yourself today? You’ve lost count. And to think it was the whole meaning of this day.

“Come here little girl, you have to get dressed” He says, already getting back in his clothes. You groan but nod, you know you should. He offers his hand to help you up. You accept it but, as soon as you get up, you fall down on your ass. Your legs fail to make you stand. You frown for a good two seconds then start to laugh. He barks out a laugh as well, all smug for reducing you in such way. He shakes his head, the hair that stick to his forehead move freely in the small breeze. You can’t stop smiling, you love to see him this happy. He hands you your clothes, deciding to put them on while sitting. Your legs needed a few more hours to regain their strength. He sits again beside you.

“Wasn’t too hard, right?”

“A bit, but that’s alright”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Hahah, I wish you did more”

You yawn quietly, leaning your head on his shoulder. He sniffles a silent laugh, then sighs deeply. He covers you both with his cloak, letting you hug him. You both lay down, one of his arms grasping you close to him, the other holding his sword tight.

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“Letting me love you”

“Uh…”

He hesitates.

“Thank you”

“For what?”

But he doesn’t answer.

#eventual smut #sandor / reader #sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #sandor x reader #fluff #got #game of thrones #smut #sandor x reader smut

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middleearthsdreams · 2 months

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The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 4 ✿:+ Candle Flames

Chapters: 1, 2, 3,

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

CW: SMUT, MINORS DNI, afab reader, thigh fucking, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of death, mention of arranged marriage, LOTS OF VIOLENCE, blood, implied threat of non-con,

Word Count: 4738

After you’d spoken to Loras, you’d felt even more alone than before. The talk offered no comfort other than the fact he didn’t want you dead. Sansa was fine company but she was something you felt the strong urge to protect. You put yourself in harm's way constantly just to prevent her from facing any pain.

Specifically one incident when you and her were walking with the Royal Party after watching the Princess sail away to Dorne to be wed off. It was hard to watch the crying girl sail away, especially when you’d been in her very place.

It was easy to keep your eyes averted to such a sight when The Hound was there to accompany Joffrey. You kept your head low but your eyes stayed on him. You’d still had so many questions about the night you both shared, but now was not the time to ask.

Later making your way back through the capital city you were sickened by the sights you saw. The Lannisters and Baretheons were supposed to be the wealthiest and most powerful houses. And yet the people of their cities sit in filth and starve. Starving over a war they did not want nor started.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be even the least bit angry when the crowd began to shout vile things. However you found yourself slightly confused once you heard the words ‘bastard’, ‘incest monster’, and ‘brother-fucker’ being sworn towards the royal party.

However your confusion only occupied your mind for a brief moment before someone within the crowd hurled cow manure at the King's face. You felt a brief sense of enjoyment when you saw it hit his face, but it was soon replaced by fear when the King ordered for the execution of the entire crowd,

“Find the man who did that and bring him to me! Kill them, Kill them all!” The King shouted.

Foolish it was, he’d only a few gold cloaks, some kingsguard, and even less knights. Outnumbered by the hundreds of rioting starving people.

Sandor grabbed hold of Joffrey protecting him.

“What are you doing? I want these people executed!” Joffrey whined loudly

“And they want the same for you!” He shouted back

The city watch was quickly overpowered. And the High Septon that you and the royal party was traveling with was pulled into the crowd. You were horrified to witness him being pulled limb from limb, never seen such a thing in your life.

“Move, Move!” Tyrion shouted at you

As the Kingsgaurd were able to eventually carve somewhat of a path towards the entrance of the Red Keep, Joffrey, Cersei, and Tyrion were all rushed inside quickly.

Before you could make your way inside you noticed your cousin Sansa being derailed and separated from the rest.

You grabbed ahold of her quickly and pushed her into a Kingsguard who brought her inside. However once she was in, without seeing you they closed the doors.

Alone.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

Inside the keep

“You blind bloody fool!” Tyrion scolded Joffrey’s moronic behavior by hitting and cursing at him. “We’ve had vicious kings, we’ve had idiot kings, but I don’t know if we’ve ever had an idiot king!”

“You’re talking to a King!” Joffrey shouted back like an embarrassed child.

Tyrion raised his hand and slapped him “And now I’ve struck a King, did my hand fall from my wrist?” He shouted back, he turned around and noticed you were not there, “Where is the Arryn girl?” He shouted at the men.

“Let them have her!” Joffrey retorted

“If she dies her relatives in the North won't forget it! She’s cared for in the vale and might I remind you she shares blood with the Starks! You need her alive!” He shouted back before frantically calling upon all the king's men to return to save you.

“Gather your men and find her!” He shouted to Ser Meryn

“I only take orders from my king, imp.” Meryn responded coldy.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

Meanwhile as you attempted to hide in a dark hall, winding up in some kind of stable. You thought for a moment you’d made it there unnoticed and alone. However four men soon walked in behind you as you backed yourself against a wall. Your hand found his way around the handle of a small sharp shovel of some kind. The blade of it was sharp and flat.

You’d not said a word, you knew if you shouted for them to get back or to fuck off it would be of no use.

“Look at this little bird's eyes, she’s furious.” One of the men with short hair was mocked.

“I’ve no gold, no silver, no bread.” You said in a low tone, firm voice.

“Aye, but you’ve got something.” The taller man said with a crooked grin.

As that man began to take a step towards you, you grasped the handle of the shovel firmly and stabbed it into him. Between his neck and his collarbone.

As the other men began to shuffle towards you, you pulled the shovel back out and pointed it at them as their friend fell to the ground holding his bleeding wound.

The man with short hair managed to grab ahold of you whilst his other friend grabbed ahold of your wrist, yanking the shovel out of your hand. The man with short hair placed his hand over your mouth, in response you bit down onto his fingers so hard you were afraid your teeth would shatter. You could taste the blood rush into your mouth.

In response to your bite, with his other hand he hit you creating a cut over your eyebrow. It threw you off just enough to make you fall back and into the other man's arms.

The three men began to pin you down shouting vulgar remarks, as they did you kicking at them and scratching at them. Just as the one with short hair began to undo his pants, he was stopped.

Picked up by the back of his neck like a puppy, practically lifted off of the ground. His guts were cut out of him. As his body fell to the ground you saw him, it wasn’t Sandor, it was The Hound. This is what everyone spoke of.

The men who held your wrists were next. He cut with precision. His swords swung and took off the man's head. The next he grabbed before he could escape. Slamming his fist into his head, and shoving his blade deep into his stomach. Once he was done he put away his sword. He turned back towards you, and it was him again, Sandor.

He bent his knee to you and spoke softly “You’re alright now, little bird, you're alright.” He said as he picked you up in both arms and carried you back to safety.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

As the two of you entered the keep Tyrion was shocked.

Once Sandor placed you down gently, a few ladies including Sansa rushed to your side pawing at your bloody face.

“My Lady are you hurt?” Tyrion asked as he tried to assess whether the blood on your mouth and hands were yours or not.

“Little birds hurt, get her back to her cage. See that cut on her head.” Sandor commanded the women as he walked away,

as he did Tyrion shouted back to him. “Well done, Clegane.”

To which Sandor responded,

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Tyrion, confused by his words, went back to your side and asked again before your ladies could take you away. “My lady, are you hurt? There’s blood- your hands and-“ he said reaching his to touch your chin where the blood from your mouth dropped.

“I bit one.” You said plainly, exhaustion in your eyes, unwilling to attempt that you’d murdered a man.

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As you laid in your bed that night, you looked at the one candle you had burning beside your bed. Contemplating whether or not to blow it out. Watching the flame kept your mind away from the memories you’d made today. You’d never seen such horrid things before, and much less partook in them. You’d killed a man. And yet, felt no remorse, which made you feel terrible, but maybe that alone counted for something. But soon even that left as your memories shifted to the feeling of being in Sandor's arms.

Before you could blow it out,

you began to hear the sounds of metal clanking up the hall. Sandor thought you’d never notice, but he often walked up and down your halls more than he was meant to. Simply to make sure you were alright.

Every time you heard the metal clanking pass you’d smile to yourself. Only this time it stopped, in front of your door. You sat up slightly on your elbows and peered towards the door. Without knocking, he came inside your chamber.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked in a whisper.

He didn’t respond, but made his way to that same golden pitcher in the corner of your room.

“It’s water, remember?” You said. He huffed and put it back down without taking a swig of it.

“What are you-” You began before he spoke in a low deep husky voice.

“You could’ve been killed.” He said without looking at you.

“But I didn’t.” You said in a sweet whisper.

He began to walk towards your bed. “The fucking cunts would ‘ave taken you bloody every which way, that pretty throat would’ve been slit open. You’d been left for the fucking rats.”

You took his hand and pulled him onto the bed, his metal scrapping the delicate sheets as he sat on it.

“You saved me, you’re the bravest man I’ve ever seen.” You said with a strange kind of adornment, one he’d never heard before.

“Brave?” He dryly scoffed, “Dogs don't need courage to chase rats.”

“You’re no dog.” You say with that same sweet whisper, it’s as if you’d realized you’d began to fall deeper into whatever emotional trap you two had created here.

“You killed that man?” He asked in a low whisper.

“I did.”

“How’d that feel.”

“Necessary.”

He stared at you for a moment, not in judgment or disgust but in understanding and some other emotion you couldn’t quite understand just yet.

“You can’t do that again.”

“Kill?”

“No.” His eyebrows furrowed, he couldn’t give less of a shit who you killed or why, “You risked your life for that Stark girl.”

“You saw that?”

“She kept yapping about it.” His tone husky

“I needed her safe first.”

“Too bad.” He said not giving you any room to argue as his thumb ran over the cut on your eyebrow, you winced slightly. “I’d kill those cock sucking rats a million times again if I could. Died too quickly. I should have cut their arms off, their hands, taken their eyes for even looking at you.”

Your hand came to his jaw, pulling yourself to his lips but he pulled away. with a sigh he came close again. He rested his forehead on yours.

“I don’t know how to- do this- gently.” He let out a small rumble, “fuck” he hissed “i want to do this gently. I want to be gentle with you.”

He was like a dog given a bone that he so badly wanted to preserve.

His hand came to your lap, and fisted the fabric of your nightgown. You placed your hands on top of his, you smoothed out his hand to lay flat on your lap.

“Like this..” you whispered as you guided his hand up, making the fabric ride up. As your thighs became more and more visible he stopped and backed away,

“No, no this isn’t right.” He grumbled as he walked over towards a large chair in the corner of your room. His face was illuminated by that single candle light. You could see his frustration and desperation in a battle with one another.

You stood, and walked towards him. He slumped forwards. Resting his forearms against his strong thighs.

“I can’t be what you wan- what you need.” He corrected. His voice was low and deep.

You pushed him back by his shoulders, making him lean against the back of the chair. His deep scowl was ever present but it didn’t stop you from running your fingers through his coarse hair.

“I shouldn’t have come back here. Should’ve stayed the fuck away. Left you be,”

“I don’t think either of us have much a choice.” You said as you moved yourself between his large thighs. Standing in front of him still running your hands through his hair. “Do you think of that night?” You asked in a whisper.

“Fuck do you think-“ He barked back before you stopped him,

“Gentle.” You corrected him

“Aye.” He conceded painfully, his hands coming to your sides holding you by your waist. His large hands engulfed your ribs.

“What part of it do you think of?” You whispered sweetly as you began to move on top of him. Your thighs spread across his as you straddled him. His eyes never leave yours.

He grumbled something low, you couldn’t make it out, but it sounded like “Your eyes.”

You didn’t want to push him, to make him repeat it.

Your hand cupped his chin, as you slowly pressed your lips against his. You pecked at his lips for a moment. Then pulling away, looking into his eyes waiting for his response. His eyes filled with shame, he looked away.

You pressed a kiss into the scarred tissue on his cheek, he flinched at the feelings and his eyes darted back to you,

“My face, why did you-“ He rasped suddenly

“Don’t you want me?”

“Course’ I do but I-“ he cut himself off as his lips hit yours once again, he sucked on your lips as hardly audible groans escaped his throat.

You pressed your thinly clothed cunt against his hardening bulge. However as soon as he felt it he grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up. You whined, and his forehead slumped forward and rested on your chest. “Fuck-“ he said breathlessly, “Can’t do that shit to me.” he panted.

“Why?” you whined a little too loudly, his grip on you tightened.

“Told you, stubborn fucking girl.” He finally caught his breathe, “Ye poke at me too much and i’ll fuck you bloody.” His eyes leaving yours in what looked like guilt.

“That’s what I want-“

“Don’t matter.” He snipped back quickly, his eyes snapping back to yours. “Once you're wed that imp will stick his cock in ya’ and know you’re not his.” He said, his words harsh, sharp and cold

“I’m not.” you said, his eyes went a little wide, with what? adornment?

You slowly lowered your hips onto his once again. Waiting for his push back but were met with none. You let out a small gasp as the bulge separated your lips through the thin fabric that covered your cunt. Another moan left your lips once you felt the hardened mound poke at your entrance. You grinded against it, your cunt began to clench around nothing.

“At’s it” He groaned into your neck, “Grin’ yerself on my cock.” He grumbled low and deep.

His face contorted, his muscles tensed, and his groans became more and more primal. His grip on your hips began to sting a little how tightly he held you. Your cheeks began to heat up, and that knot in your stomach tightened.

He picked you up abruptly, kissing your neck.

“On your back, now.” He commanded as he placed you onto the fur rug on your bed chambers floor.

He untied his breeches that clearly had a wet spot on it, unclear if it was your doing or his. He was still fully covered in his armor, as he pulled out his cock. Harder than you’d seen it before.

You rode up your night gown to your hips and slipped out of the thin underclothes you’d had on.

He was on his knees before you, you on your back, legs bent and spread, ready and inviting.

He stared at you, admiring you.

He placed his heavy aching member between your folds. Rubbing up and down, his tip hitting your clit in the most perfect way.

He pressed your thighs together, and he let out a long drawn out groan.

“Fuck!” He hissed as he began to buck himself against your cunt. “So fuckin’ wet” He growled as his bucking continued in a more erratic pace.

You arched your back and squeezed your thighs together as his fat tip kept hitting your clit

“Don’t- Don’t stop.” You whimpered looking up at his hair falling into his face, his eyes trailing all over you, from your wet thighs to your breasts that bounced with every thrust to your pouting lips all the way back to your eyes.

“Not fuckin’ stopping.” He said through gritted teeth. “But,” He was stopped by a deep guttural moan, “Don’t look at me like that.” He said panting, “You’ll make me finish too quickly.” He said once more through gritted teeth.

You took it as a challenge, stubborn as you were. You gave him a smile, and a giggle.

“Fuckin' stubborn girl.” He said through gritted teeth, then picking you up and turning you around. Your back flesh with his armored chest.

He pressed your thighs together again, and pushed his cock back in between them, but slightly missing and catching your entrance. Even though he graced it only slightly you moaned so beautifully it almost made him cum right then. That's when you realized how truly lovely it would feel to have him inside of you.

“I want it inside” You moaned as one of your arms reached over and behind you to wrap around his broad shoulders. While your other hand held his large forearm that draped over your stomach holding you in place.

“Can’t do that to you.” He said breathlessly, as his other hand removed the straps of your gown. As it fell to your waist, he cupped your breasts, his large hand completely engulfing it.

You whined again. You didn’t care if you were ruined, you wanted to be. But you couldn’t force him.

His tongue and teeth danced along your neck, you begged in your mind that he’d bite down or suck on your skin but no, never. Never to burden you with evidence that this ever happened.

You felt that heat rise and the knot in your belly begin to snap. He could feel you clenching and it produced a vulgar moan from him,

“That’s alright, you can cum,” He grunted, as he said that you moved your head back and faced him. “MH-” He gave you a sloppy and passionate kiss to mute your moan as you came over his cock. As your high was ridden out, he continued to thrust, he separated the kiss and looked deeply into your now exhausted and satisfied eyes, “Sandor” You whispered, sweetly, “Sandor,”

He didn’t break your eye contact, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold back his moans as he began to spill out and over your thighs, “(Y/N)” He growled with a final deep and long thrust.

As you laid there, on the fur rug of your room catching your breath. He laid with you.

You peered over to him, “I meant what I said.” He peered over to you, raising one eyebrow. “I’m not his.” You said softly.

“Aye.” He looked away, “But for your sake he’d better think you are.” He said in a low husky voice.

You raised your hand to his scarred cheek, you began to run your fingers over it when he pulled away.

“I don’t mind it, really,” You whispered.

“Every one fucking minds it.” He hissed

“I don’t.” You said back defiantly

He huffed, and laid there in silence, he looked over at you, feelings somewhat bad he’d snapped at you. ‘Gentle’ he remembered.

“When I was a boy, my brother caught me with one of his toys. Thought I stole it. I didn’t, just playing with it. Pressed my head to the fire. All like Baelish told you.” He let out another sigh, “But the worst part was that it was my brother who did it. And my father who protected him. Told everyone my bedding caught fire.”

You moved closer to him and rested your head on his chest. You tried to listen to his heart beating through the armor, only making out a few muffled thumps. Your eyes heavy, closed soon enough.

When you woke in the middle of the night you were in your alone bed, your legs were cleaned and you were dressed.

And

Your candle was out.

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Every Morning since the riots you were awoken by a handmaiden, sometimes two. They’d dress you in red or gold. Braiding your hair, being sure to put lots of intricate, and no doubt expensive hair pins in it. You were beginning to feel more like the ornate decor that was scattered around kings landing than you felt like an actual woman anymore.

As you walked the halls your handmaidens were like guards, guards of a prisoner.

You passed a mirror as you walked and caught a glimpse of yourself, hardly recognizable. “As high as honour” what a joke you thought. Look at you now, looking more and more like a Lannister with each passing day. The red and gold you were forced to wear was a stark contrast from the blues and silvers you’d grown to love. But now you’d really had no home. You didn’t align yourself with the rest of your house anymore either. Lysa and Robin felt like intruders in your home, and they treated you the same. And now, Baelish was a true intruder in it. Being allowed in by your stepmother who’d no right to allow him entrance. Entrance to your home and now your titles. Rightfully yours.

To gain your titles the Lannister's were your only hope now, so for now you’d be Cersei’s doll and Tyrion's wife. For now, you’d play along.

But where did that leave Sandor?

You knew that first night he was angry, not at you. He was angry you were the one thing he couldn’t protect. You were his master's thing and couldn’t stop them from toying with you. He was angry you were the only thing he’d ever wanted, and just like everything he couldn’t have. He was angry he couldn’t tell you how much he wanted you.

And the second night, he was scared, and vulnerable.

You’d stopped eating since the riot. Normally, that would have gone unnoticed. However your now doting husband has made sure to keep eyes on you at all times. Your handmaidens are unwilling to engage in an argument with you knowing you aren’t the person to pick a fight with, told Tyrion.

As your ladies ceaselessly brought you trays of food whilst you attempted to lounge on your balcony while you read you simply waved your hand at each tray, now not even bothering with a “No, thank you.” As it didn’t seem to stop them.

Tyrion stepped onto the balcony, your eyes went towards him but snapped back onto your book as soon as you knew who was joining your handmaidens in disturbing your peace.

“Lord Tyrion.” You said in greeting, hardly exerting any energy into it. You would have felt badly about discarding your virtue once more for another man if he’d hadn’t made you feel even more like a prisoner.

“Lady (Y/N)” He said back, sitting across from you, “What are you reading?”

“Something of little consequence,” You said, closing the book and looking over your shoulder at the women who surrounded you “May we be left alone?” You asked, the women didn’t budge but looked to Tyrion who nodded at them, once at his command they left.

“They don’t listen to me.” You said with harsh eyes.

“I told them not to.” He said with a huff as he repositioned himself in his seat and putting on a half hearted smile.

“Did you tell them to dress me like this too?” You said tossing the closed book to the side table next to you.

“I asked them to help you fit in,” He said, leaning closer to you, his eyes filled with some kind of concern. “Joffrey has a tendency to single you out I wanted to see if I could correct that... Aesthetically.. Cersei had some dresses made for you and-”

“If you wish for me to continue to view you favorably, you are failing.” You said stoically, "Was I inadequate before?"

"No- no I-" He stopped himself, “I just want to do all I can to ensure your safety.” He conceded. You did appreciate it, but your need for freedom overweighed that appreciation heavily.

You sighed and looked away, off towards the near distant ocean of blue. You fidgeted with your new golden rings on your fingers. “And, you’re not eating.” He said in a lower tone,

“And, you’re spying on me?” You said now focusing back on him.

“Your ladies told me-”

“Your ladies.” You corrected.

“I am concerned. Ever since the riots you’ve not eaten a meal.” He huffed, “You need to eat. Name any food you want and I wish to have it made.”

“I don’t want to eat.” You responded bluntly.

“I am your husband to be, It is my duty-”

“Your duty? Your duty to imprison me in this place, in this engagement?” Your angry scowl dropped soon as you realized how cutting your words were. To him he was keeping you from further harm, and you knew that. You sighed and looked back to the sea, “It is hard for me to eat, it is hard for me to sleep.”

“Tell me how to help and I will.” He said almost pleading as he leaned forward and held his hands out palms up. "I’d do anything for my lady wife.” The words ‘lady wife’ made you want to vomit, especially after the previous night.

“I want to go home. I want to claim my titles.”

“You and I both.” He said with a dry chuckle. “I have wanted to claim my own birthrights long enough to know the feeling.”

“Were they stolen from under your grieving feet by Petyr Baelish?”

“No-”

“Mine were. And I am powerless to stop it, because I sit here in this castle in these red gowns and Lannister gold. I am presenting myself as indifferent to my own birthright being stolen from me.” You sighed, “I understand what you are trying to do. I do, I may be angry but I do understand. But you need to understand this, in doing what you feel is protecting me, whether it is or is not, you have taken whatever independence I had left.”

“I understand.” He said sitting back into his seat, “And I will do all I can to help you proclaim your titles. But, it would seem Stannis aims to attack this city.”

“Stannis Baretheon?” You asked in some confusion, no one ever told you anything.

“It seems we are not the only ones who wish to claim titles.” He said in an attempt to jest, “So we're not the men to fight for you yet, however we aim to win this war. Once it is, I will see to it that your titles are restored.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Tyrion.” Although not in the slightest comforted by the idea of war approaching your doorstep

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆

As you walked down the halls of the castle you were hit with a brick wall, Sandor.

“you’re not eating.” Sandor said in a hushed but deep and husky tone

“How’d you-” You began before he interrupted you.

“All those fucking handmaidens tell the royals.” He said in annoyance

“I eat when I'm hungry. haven’t been in a while.”

“you don’t eat, you’ll starve.” His voice was like he was warning you.

“unlikely. That takes time. Stannis aims to attack the city. I'm sure I'll be dead then.” You responded stoically.

“You won’t die.” He said as if it were fact,

“How can you be certain?” You retorted defiantly

“Cause I fucking said so.” He said stomping off, his cape flowing behind him.

NOTE: Hey all you cool cats and kittens I hope you like this one!!! The next two are going to be a wittle cwazy just a warning... ALSO yall I wrote the smut part during jury duty LMAO... anyways

Also the last few chapters have gotten so much love and I am so very grateful thank you!!! <3

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middleearthsdreams · 2 months

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18+ mdni

Me: “fuck, I need his cock”

Him: *is literally just words on tumblr*

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middleearthsdreams · 2 months

Photo

This is the money Marge. Reblog for good fortune

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middleearthsdreams · 2 months

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mmmkay

So, yeah. I have a favorite character (besides Arya and Dany and Brienne, there are so many amazing ladies in this series omfg) and absolutely no one should be shocked it’s the giant tall hairy mean man

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middleearthsdreams · 2 months

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The Caged Bird and The Leased Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 3 ✿:+

pervious chapter

CW: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem reader, oral sex (fem rec), mutual masturbation, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of death, mention of arranged marriage.

Word Count: 4826

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The morning after your last encounter with the Hound in the stables you were woken up by two handmaidens. They dressed you in a gown Cersei had made for you, it was red and gold, embellished with intricate beaded flowers. No matter how many times you asked they wouldn’t tell you why you were being summoned by Cersei.

Your paranoia grew as you walked down the halls. You were more paranoid than ever nowadays.

As you walked into Cersei's chambers, her handmaidens closed the doors behind you.

“Hello, little dove.” She said standing on her balcony. You walked towards her, your hands fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

“Your grace, thank you for the gown, it is beautiful.” You tried your best to seem relaxed.

“Ah yes, red and gold. Those colors suit you well. That’s good, they will need to.” She said, stepping towards you, playing with a strand of your hair.

“Your grace?” You asked,

“Tell me, have you met my brother?” She asked softly and gently.

“Which-”

“Tyrion, Tyrion Lannister, have you met him?” She cut you off, dropping the piece of hair she played with and sounding suddenly sterner.

“Only passing pleasantries and exchanges, your grace.” You felt your heart race, your palms sweat.

“What do you think of him?” she narrowed her eyes “He has quite a reputation, and his physical appearance does not help it-”

“He’s been nothing but decent to my family and myself, your grace.” You interrupted hoping she would get to the point faster.

“Good, good. That’ll make things easier.” She forced a sympathetic smile.

“Your grace,” Your eyes fluttered. your voice wavered, and your heart raced faster.

“You have been matched. It is the King's will, and you two shall be wed.” She pet your hair softly.

Your throat went dry and you could help but look taken aback.

“I don’t understand,” Your voice cracked and you took a step back.

“You’ll get used to it.” She nodded, “My brother and I don’t have the best relationship but he is gentle with women. He will serve as a good husband. He will give you a child, that’s the best thing a man can give you. Perhaps we can negotiate with Baelish to keep your titles now that he’s betrothed to your mother.”

You didn’t care to correct her that she was your step mother. You stood there with your eyes wide, you didn’t know what to say. You’d found out two devastating truths in one moment. You’d possibly no longer inherit your fathers titles, and you’d be forced into the family that killed your own.

“Don’t you think?” Cersei asserted trying to gain your attention again not so subtly.

“Yes, yes Your Grace.” You faked a smile.

These people killed your uncle no less than a week ago, you had no choice but to accept. It wasn’t even framed as an option. They only wanted to calm you and make you agreeable, so you gave it to them. You didn’t have options.

You did what Sandor would have told you to do. You agreed, and smiled. You gave them what they wanted.

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Your chambers were small in comparison to Cersei’s. It was a constant reminder that you were not home. The sheets were red with golden lions and flowers embroidered into them. The walls are adorned with golden decorations. It was beautiful but nothing like your home, nothing like your room. You couldn’t imagine it, “(Y/N) Lannister '' it didn’t seem right. You are a girl of the vale in the lion's den.

The prospect of marriage became very real, and very near. Tyrion was the best of them, there was no doubt in that fact. However you didn’t even accept Loras’s proposal so why would you accept Tyrion's. But it would seem, you'd have no choice now, neither did Tyrion.

You thought of him every day, and every night. You would find yourself awake at such late hours they weren’t late anymore they were early. You’d dream of his hands, his broad shoulders, his sad eyes framed by a scowling face. You’d feel yourself pulse and you’d be forced to relieve yourself on your pillows or sometimes your hand to feel any kind of relief. You’d wonder if he had done the same, never knowing but he had. As you found yourself beginning to feel that same pressure in between your legs there was a knock upon your door.

“Who is it?” You beckoned, you were more paranoid than ever nowadays, Cersei’s speech just hours before your uncles execution didn't help.

“Your betrothed it would seem.” Tyrion beckoned back. You rolled your eyes and sighed, slightly hoping for Sandor, and not whatever awkward conversation was about to be held.

As you opened the door you gave a half hearted smile, “My Lord.” You greeted me.

He scrunched up his face and waved his hand in dismissal “No need for that, Tyrion is fine, my lady.” He smiled.

“Then enough ‘my lady’, (Y/N) is fine.” You said smiling back, this time more genuine, “Is there something I can help you with, my-” You stopped yourself and corrected “Tyrion.”

“I hoped we could discuss our arrangement.” He said as if he felt guilty. His eyes were kind, soft and gentle.

You nodded in agreement, however you didn’t know what much else was to be said. You began to step into the hall when he held his hand out to you. You were caught somewhat off guard by such a gentle act, you flinched, and it didn’t go unnoticed. You did however take his hand.

He led you to a secluded chamber. There were books strone about, this is the same room where you had stolen the first book of his. As you sat as he poured himself a goblet of wine, he motioned if you’d want some and you shook your head.

“This is awkward,” He said with a forced smile as he sat with his goblet.

“For you, I’d imagine so.” You said with a huff as you crossed your legs and your arms,

“It isn’t for you? Speaking to the man you are being forced to marry?” He said with a chuckle.

“Awkward or not, given what I have endured here, speaking with you is the least painful thing that has afflicted me.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He said with a furrowed brow. He made you crack a slight smile.

“Is there something you wished to discuss?” You asked shifting in your seat uncomfortably waiting for him to get to the point.

“Ah” He said as he placed his goblet down, his brain snapping back to the original intent of this meeting. “Well, my Lady-”

“(Y/N)” You corrected unapologetically,

“(Y/N)” He smiled softly, “We are to be wed.” You nodded, in agreement, your face however was still stoic. “I want you to know, I did not want this.” “Well” You inhaled sharply “I did not either. Though I hope I did not disappoint you.” You said with that signature venom in your eyes. You knew in a way that he didn’t mean it in that way, but you never passed up an opportunity to show that you weren’t one to shy from confrontation.

“I did not- You did not.” He stammered and stopped himself. He looked down collecting his thoughts, “I am not disappointed in you. But I believe someone you love should take your hand.” He said with a half hearted smile.

“May I ask you something?” You asked shifting in your seat to lean closer to him. “My father, Lord Arryn. When he brought me here, he brought me here with the intention of marrying me off. My father was not one to go into anything blind. I know he had discussed it, I know he had certain men in mind. Tell me who those men were.”

“You don’t believe he picked me?” He chuckled before seeing your still serious face and continuing, “Your father did consider Ser Loras Tyrell, Renly Baratheon, before his marriage of course. I am sure those would have good matches, though I do believe you might be missing some of those men's favorite parts.” You wanted to laugh but didn’t want to lighten the situation, so you settled for a smirk as you looked away hiding your amusement. “Your father did not want you to wed Joffrey.” His joking tone diminished “Baelish requested consideration, which was denied. Your father clearly cared for your honor.” Your eyes went back to him. You thought of it, Baelish requesting your hand? It seemed strange as you never met the man. “I am sure there were many others who requested your hand.”, He smiled softly.

“But not you?” You grinned

“I would not have embarrassed either of us like that,” He said, sipping from his goblet.

“Embarrassed?” “I would not embarrass you by being wed to a dwarf, and I’d not embarrass myself by being rejected by both you and your father.”

“Peytr Baelish didn’t seem to mind.” You jested, and he cracked a smile. “I don’t care about your height.” You scoffed, “You’ve been nothing but decent towards me and my family.”

“But if I proposed you wouldn’t have accepted.” “No I wouldn’t have.” He nodded “But that’s not because of your height. Or even your reputation. It’s because I don’t know you. Other than the few books of yours I have stolen and the passing exchanges between you, my family, and myself I do not know you.”

“Well we’ve all the time we need to know each other now.” He smirked, “You’ve stolen my books?”

“Four, maybe five.” You responded quickly “Things get awfully dull around here.”

“I suppose they will be our books soon enough.” He tried to jest, “I think I know something about you now. You’re honest, opinionated-” You stopped him

“The king does not like those traits of mine, it would seem.” You said slightly smiling.

“No doubt why he created his engagement... What my nephew has done to your cousin,” He stopped himself and looked at your lip, still slightly bruised from Joffrey’s Name Day. “What he has done to you… it is-” He stammered, unable to find an appropriate word for it, “deplorable.”

“I suppose he will be my nephew as well, soon enough.” You attempted to jest,

“(Y/N),” he said leaning forward, grasping your hand lightly “I promise you- I swear to you, no harm shall come to you.”

“You cannot promise that,”

“I suppose I can’t.” he said looking at your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb, “I can promise that I will never harm you. I will do all I can to make you happy.”

You felt your eyes beginning to dissect his words as your brows furrowed in concern. You forced a smile to ease his mind. You placed your hand atop of his that was holding yours. You were genuinely appreciative of his gentleness and his kind words. You should be happy, he was handsome enough. But it was times like this, when another man's hand was on yours when you felt disappointment burrowing in your chest, how you wished it was another man, how you wished it was your man.

“I can assign a handmaiden to be with you at all times when I cannot, they’ll make sure you and Joffrey are far apart-”

“I don’t need a shadow, I can take care of myself” You removed your hand sitting back in your chair.

“I say you can,” He smiled, “I do have something for you, I thought, it might soften the blow.” He said as he sat up and retrieved a silver necklace from his coat pocket. It was a dainty chain that held a silver falconed winged woman who held a large natural pearl. What made it stand out to you even more was a blue sapphire teardrop that came from her eye.

“Valyrian steel.” He said, your eyes went wide as you looked at him, how generous, too generous. “Falcon wings, and blue sapphire for your house.”

“I cannot take that,” You said,

“Hm,” He looked at the necklace in his hand, “Well I cannot wear it.” He grinned holding it out to you again.

You sighed and took it, you smiled at him, “I look forward to getting to know you, Tyrion.”

You actually did.

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After such a long talk with your future husband and the idea of becoming a Lannister made your body run a cold sweat. You ran a bath with lavender to calm yourself but it hardly worked.

As you stood in your chambers, in your white nightgown and soaking wet hair, you looked around at the red and golden interior. The room is adorned with lions and flower embellishments. It was as if they were intentionally rubbing the fact you were misplaced in your face.

You looked for something to ground yourself, you grabbed the necklace that Tyrion gave to you.

You felt the Valyrian steel necklace in your palm. The cold of the metal reminded you of the cold breeze that would rush through the halls of the Eyrie. But then, it reminded you of something else. The metal of chainmail, the metal of armor.

You longed for so much nowadays.

You longed for your mother, father, your brother whom you’d only spent an hour of life with, your room, your birds. All were gone, but you remained.

You did long for one other thing though, one thing that was in reach but still so far. That made it worse, that it was so close and yet you were unable to take it. Your longing for your mothers comfort was easier to accept because it was so unattainable but this, this was so close it made you sick.

Then that sound that becoming too familiar,

Knock, knock, knock, ‘Gods” you thought, wishing everyone would finally leave you alone. You were certain it was some handmaiden that Tyrion promised you. A doting husband he was shaping up to be, how awful.

“Go away.” You beckoned, as you dropped the necklace onto your nightstand.

BAM BAM BAM BAM, the knocks were now banging at your door. You jumped, clutching the thin fabric of your nightgown.

You approached the door slowly, “Who is it,” you asked much gentler this time.

“I could bust this door down if I wanted.” He grumbled through the door. You knew that tone all too well, you dreamt of it enough times.

You relaxed and unlocked the door, opening it just a crack, but he busted his way inside.

“What're you doing-” You began but were cut off by him slamming the door and making his way to a golden pitcher on a small table on the other side of your room.

“Don’t ever open your door for anyone who knocks like that.” He grumbled under his breath as he took a long deep swig and promptly spitting it out. “Fuck water.” He hissed “You got no fucking wine in here?”

“Sandor-” You started before he cut you off

“Don't call me that!” He barked at you,

“What should I call you then, Dog?” You snapped back at him.

“And what shall I call you? Lady fucking Lannister?” He said with a fake mocking grin.

“You ignore me for days, and now- now you come into my chambers to let out whatever irrational rage is consuming you on to me?” You walked up to him, your eyes filled with hurt, “Why? Hm? Why are you in my room?” He didn’t respond and you stepped even closer, “Why Sandor-''

You were cut off by his large arm wrapping around your waist pulling you into his body, hoisting you up just enough you were on your tiptoes. As his other hand cupped your jaw as his scarred lips pressed against yours.

You ran your hands up his thick arms covered in hard cold metal.

That burning pressure between your legs began to rise once again once his large hand traveled down your jaw to your chest. You mewled into his lips as his hand traveled towards your clothed breasts.

He growled into your lips as he said through his teeth “Tell me to go, tell me to get the fuck away from you.” He said in a primal growl as he began to remove his armor.

You shook your head “No,” you painted, your eyes fluttering from the tingling between your legs only grew as his armor fell to the ground. You took in all the scars you could see peeking through his loose tunic.

“Run away from me,” He said in a low rumble as his hands returned to your waist and breast.

“No” You almost moaned as your hands explored his broad shoulders to his thick neck. You pulled yourself up to his neck, peppering it with kisses.

“Stubborn fucking woman” He grumbled as he grabbed you by your thighs, wrapping you around his waist. His mouth traveled from your plush lips to your jaw, then to your neck, your collar bones, and to your chest. Your breathy moans rushed straight to his cock.

“Put me on the bed.” You commanded softly, he obeys immediately, his lips and tongue not stopping until you were sat on the bed. He laid you there surprisingly gently.

You sat up onto your knees on the bed. You faced him as he stood at the edge of the end of the bed. Your eyes stayed locked on his as you pulled your nightgown over your head, the soft silk melted off of you as you tossed it onto the floor. His eyes wandered over you, his hand cupped your jaw as he looked down into your eyes

“You’re beautiful. I’ve waited a very long time to tell you that.” His words were sweet but his tone was dark and deep. Like a dog growling over a bone.

You never liked being called beautiful, but this felt different. You didn’t respond, you took his hand and kissed the palm before you reached your hands up to the ties of his tunic. He pulled it off of him before you could finish.

Your fingers traced the scars that littered his chest and stomach. You stopped at one on his lower stomach, you licked and kissed it softly. His hand came and brushed the hair on your head, pulling it back forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t want this,” He said, his voice was deep but gentle.

“This is all I want.” You said as your hand traced down to the ties of his breeches. He grabbed your hand.

“Have you ever seen a man unclothed before?” He rasped.

You shook your head, “No. Not like this.” The Eyrie was a cage with a cloak on top of it. You’d seen so little of the world so high up, and the men who worked there never dared defy Lysa. But you’d see paintings and sculptures.

He began to untie his breeches for you, he practically tore the laces as he pulled himself out. He let out a groan as he was released from his breeches. His cock wasn’t even fully erect yet, still twitching at the sight of your body beneath him. Your lips parted and you tried desperately to conceal your surprise, it was bigger than what you’d seen on a canvas or carved in marble.

You reached out to take him in your hand but he grabbed your wrist, again, stopping you.

“You’ve never done this before?” He rasped again,

“Only to myself.” You said softly.

A deep and dry chuckle left his lips as he stared down at you, “Dirty little bird.” He growled under his breath. “Lay back on the bed.” He rasped “Now.” He commanded in a low growl. As you did he pulled you close by your ankles.

He leaned down and kissed your lips roughly, groaned at the sensation of his cock touching the soft skin of your thighs.

Your hand began to trail down his chest to his stomach to his cock, before his hand could stop you once more. You whined into his lips as he pulled away “If you touch me, I won’t be able to stop, I’ll fuck you bloody.” He grumbled into your lips. It didn’t sound bad at all to you.

“What if I want that?”

“You don’t. Not really.”

“Or maybe you don’t want that.”

“I want to mark you up. I want to leave bites and bruises all over you, want everyone to know I did it. I want to fuck you bloody, stretch you over my cock. I want to make you all fucking mine. But, then your lord wouldn’t care that much would he?” He growled.

“Then what do you want with me?” You asked with venom in your eyes. You were annoyed with him and his teasing. You knew he was angry with the situation but you knew the reason he didn’t do it was because it would mean others would know of your infidelity. It would risk your safety. He refused you, because he cared, even if he didn’t want to admit that.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for too long.” He said as he dropped to his knees. You squirmed a bit, but his large arm wrapped over your thighs and pinned you down.

His beard tickled you, as he began to lap up your wetness. His tongue circled and tapped against your clit.

You let out a sweet, breathy moan, as you tossed your head back onto the bed you laid on. You grabbed a handful of the hair at the back of his head, It was then when he began to fuck you with his tongue, letting his nose rub against your sensitive needy clit. Once you felt his tongue penetrate you. The loud noises filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

He lifted his head from between her legs, “Keep your mouth shut,” He was panting and tightening his grip on your thigh. You pushed his head back, “Keep yours open.” you painted,

He went back to ravaging you with his tongue. You covered your mouth to keep yourself from moaning any louder, an effort almost in vain once he sucked on your clit. “Gods- Sandor” You whispered in a moan. You saying his name made him moan into your cunt, the vibration of it made that pressure in you build, about to snap.

“Sandor” You repeated wanting that same vibration, and you got it, it drove you past the edge and you felt the heat rush out of you. He drank your cum like it was wine. You mewled, as he stood up you saw his cock as hard as stone.

Your eyes fluttering and weakly trying to sit up you asked him softly “Let me help you.” As you reached out to his cock, but for the third time he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t” he urged, “I told you, if you touch me, I won’t be able to control myself.”

You sighed, “But I want you to feel what I did.”

“Lay back” This time his voice softer “Show me how you fuck yourself.” He whispered,

You reached down and played with your clit, a groan left his lips as he took himself in his hand watching you. You watched as his huge thick hand gripped himself and pushed back and forth. He grunted and moaned behind gritted teeth. And you let out sweet mewls watching him, hardly focused on your own pleasure. Picking up his pace he almost collapsed on top of you, his one arm able to hold him up as he leaned over you.

His grunts were angry and deep.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he fucked himself in his hand, locking eyes with you, no longer looking at you fucking yourself or his hand. It was as if he was pretending his hand was your cunt, pretending he was fucking you the way he wanted to for so long. You moaned his name sweetly which only helped push him further off that cliff. Your eyes fluttering, you held his jaw in your free hand, you pulled him in and kissed his lips gently despite the savage pace he was thrusting into his hand.

“Sandor” You moaned once more before he finally came undone. “Gods!” He gritted his teeth and groaned as he was harmed. You felt his heat pour onto your stomach.

The two of you planted together. Sandor cupped your face with his rough large hand, looking at you deeply before getting up and finding his tunic. He ripped the sleeve off of it and used it to clean you before he threw it into the fireplace in your chambers.

You sat up and crawled over the edge of your bed, leaning over and grabbing your silk nightgown. You threw it on as you watched him dressing himself again. Once he finished he looked back to you, the two of you locked eyes for a moment, longer than either of you wanted. Neither of you knew what to say. You stood and approached him.

“I care for you.” You whispered, your eyes softened and you cupped his cheek with your hand.

He took your hand by the wrist and kissed your palm, “You shouldn’t.” he rasped before leaving you.

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After that night, you couldn’t get your mind off of it. It was nothing you’d ever experienced, it only made your emotions deeper for someone who couldn’t have. And now, you were engaged to someone else. You needed someone to talk to about it. Sansa wouldn’t understand, she was too young, and you clearly couldn’t talk to Tyrion. So against your better judgment you found yourself confiding in Loras.

“You're an imbecile.” He quipped as soon as you told him the event of the past two days. You could hardly blame him, you had wronged him.

“I know you're upset with me, no doubt you don’t see things the way that I do.” You said stoically.

“No I don’t. No one does, (Y/N).” His voice raised slightly with annoyance.

“I do, that seems to be what matters.”

“You could be in High Garden right now, or you could be back in the Vale, in the Eyrie. I would have had men fight for your titles that Baelish stole from under you. I would have the finest things for you. Whatever you wished for I would have done it.”

“I wished for my cousins to be safe.” You were annoyed by his lack of understanding, “Besides Tyrion seems content to do all those things you mentioned anyways.” That wasn’t the kindest thing for you to say, but you often lose your temper when pushed.

“Is he content to let you bed a king's guard?” Loras retorted quickly and at a higher volume than you’d prefer.

“Keep your voice down.” You commanded in a lower and stern tone.

“Will he be content to have a bastard? Content to raise it as his own? Content to defend you and that bastard, when people begin to notice how little they look alike?” He said with saddened eyes, “I would have been. You were my one friend, my one true friend.” His tone mellowed, defeatedly

“I still am, it needn’t be this way. I should have accepted your proposal, I know, but I-”

“I know. Your cousin.” He cut you off. He picked a flower in the garden and handed it to you. “You are the most intelligent woman I know. But you are too stubborn and selfless, if you weren’t you’d be the most powerful woman in the realm I’d wager.” He said with a hint of a grin

“I don’t need any of that. What good has it done anyone? You gain an ounce of power and you gain three enemies.” You said examining the flower he gave you.

“Just, just stay alive, look out for yourself.” He said, defeatedly. He placed a hand on your cheek and walked away.

You sighed, nothing comforting came from it. You didn’t know what to expect but you were disappointed nonetheless.

You looked back at the flower in your hand, you huffed and tossed it back into the bushes and continued on.

You looked up and saw Joffrey with his guards walking past across the garden. You caught a glimpse of the Hound. His eyes caught yours. But soon you two were ripped from each other's gaze.

You didn’t know what to do now. All you did know is that you had three men who wanted you and three men who could despise you if you took the wrong step. And your mind lingered on one man in particular, one the other three weren’t even concerned with.

Baelish, and what he wanted with the Vale.

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Note: bark like you want it baby… I told y'all we’d be laying it down. And don’t worry we will be busting it down as well. Also the actual jewler who created that gorgeous pendent in the banner is miya kumo

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middleearthsdreams · 2 months

Text

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 2 ✿:+

previous chapter | next chapter

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

Word Count: 3037

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was horrified, you approached her slowly and quietly.

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

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

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

“I can’t!” She began to whine as she cried

“You can!” you stroked her hair trying to keep her attention “You killed those men?”

“Just the stable boy” she cried softly

“You killed a man. That's more than most women will ever kill.” You pulled her face closer trying to make sure your words reached her “Listen to me those men will come and they will kill you. Don’t trust anyone, never tell them your name, never tell them your house. Lie, and get good at it. Kill if you need to.” You said as you grabbed needle and put it in her hand, “Now go.” You say as you let go of her and she runs off.

‘Good’ you thought as you watched her run away. As you watched you didn’t notice the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

Soon enough you were summoned by Cersei to witness Nedd’s verdict.

She didn’t anticipate what came next, and neither did you, watching the death of your uncle.

You held Sansa through it. As she screamed and cried, you tried your best to conceal her eyes.

Your eyes however dodged from your uncle to The Hound behind him. You hoped he would do something to stop it, but he didn’t

And so, it happened.

The second hand of the king died.

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He thought of it every night.

The moment he touched you, your skin, the moment his rough hands caressed your throat.

He rolled the thought over in his mind millions of times. Gods’, it tortured him to no end. He tried to bury himself in his duty, bury himself in any woman who looked the slightest bit like you on the Streets of Silk, even taking himself in his hand at the thought of your scent…. More than once.

The thought of you sparked resentment and anger in his chest. He was Kingsguard now, he had no use for a woman, had no use for these emotions he felt.

He hated you for it. Hated you for the way he wanted to rip Loras’s head off anytime he saw you and him in the garden. Hated you for the way he thought of your eyes everytime he closed his eyes. Hated you for the way his mind would wonder at you at any turn even on duty. Hated you for the way his chest tightened anytime he caught even a glimpse of you around Kings Landing. And he hated you for the way your eyes caught his. Each time it was like a deadlock, those eyes, they were a bow and arrow and they shot through him each time.

He grumbled under his breath anytime you were near. Purposefully look away from you as if you didn’t exist. You pretended not to care, but you fought hard just to catch a single glimpse of his face. The burns that draped across the right side of his face like the sheer lace curtains you had in your room in the Eyrie that distort your view from the window.

Neither of you had much time to think about these emotions during the following days. You were spending your time mothering Sana as she grieved her fathers death. The Hound was now King Joffrey’s personal bodyguard now that Robert was gone. A terrible task truly.

Even worse one when your stubborn and rebellious tongue didn’t obey your better judgment around the new king. The Hound tried to convince himself he hated it, but it turned him on even if he didn’t want to admit it. He tried to keep you safe, as safe as he could. Whenever you shot an annoyed glance, a cleverly concealed insult Joffrey's way, the Hound would simply divert Joffrey’s attention to something else. But if you ever got on Joffrey's bad side he couldn’t do much, far be it from him to question a king. On Joffrey’s name day you tested his patience. Joffrey had you and his lady Sansa accompany his side during his Name Day celebration. However you felt a slight sting of joy knowing you’d be so close to him once again. But more so your stomach turned in on itself. Joffrey no doubt invited you for the explicit challenge of trying to elicit some kind of reaction from you in some way. This became clear once he continuously asked for your input on the celebratory fighting. You’d had a small fascination with combat at first. It was like a dance but with blood and swords. but soon you’d grow bored of it.

As The Hound had beaten a man to a whimpering submissive pulp the fight was over. Joffrey clapped and cheered as The Hound removed his dog helmet.

Still you were stunned by him. You wanted to hate him for not helping your uncle. You tried to hate him but in all honesty you knew he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He’d no real power, no real way of stopping it.

“Well struck, Dog!” Joffrey shouted, and snapped you out of your trance.

Joffrey turned to you and Sansa “Did you like that?” he asked, taunting you and her.

“It was well struck, your Grace.” Sansa replied, stoic.

“I just said that.” Joffrey said, his eyes narrowed, his tone deepened.

Ser Meryn looked over in Sansa’s direction. You knew what that meant,

“I found it boring.” You chimed in, your eyes just as narrow as his.

“You did?” He asked with the same threatening tone

“Mm” you nodded

“And what man did your house bring to fight?”

“Brought no man.” You shook your head

The Hound returned to his station by the Kings side. He pretended not to listen but he was, intensely.

“You brought no man to my name day tournament?” He questioned further, you knew he would have taunted you further. To state it was for lack of good men or perhaps your dead father’s power died with him, that your house was to die with it.

“Not one.” Your head whipped towards Joffrey, gaze sharpening. “Not one man wished to celebrate your name day it would seem.”

“Ser Meryn.” Joffrey commanded.

You noticed the Hound's head tilt in your direction as Ser Meryn walked towards you and slapped you across your face, cutting your lip with the armor of his glove. As Ser Meryn walked away you turned your head back towards Joffrey.

“You are a pretty girl, a little more plump than I would like, but still a pretty girl.” Joffrey said “You should be more agreeable in tone, or you might find you won't be so pretty.” He smiled as he threatened you.

“Hm?” He waited for your response as you wiped the blood from your lip.

As you looked up, “Do you wish for me to cry, your Grace?” you asked almost mocking.

Joffrey began to dryly chuckle at your remark, probably about to order another hit for you as Ser Dontos Hollard stumbled onto the tournament drunkenly. The Hound cleared his throat, getting Joffrey to shift his attention towards him and not you. With his attention shifted you were safe once more.

Your eyes stayed on the Hound however. You knew what he had done for you, however subtle it was, you noticed.

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You found yourself spending more and more time near your mare. The moon shined on her just right for her coat to shine almost like metal, and your candle light shined on her just perfectly for her to glow like the sun. Lika, she was the only thing left you had from your home. You’d begin to yearn for the times you’d be furious with your fathers decisions and his useless attempts at comforting you. Because at least if he’d seen you were struck the way you had been, he’d have taken you home. He’d have helped you. But for now, you had Lika.

As you sat in front of Lika’s stable, you read some book you’d stolen from Tyrion at some point. It was hardly interesting, infact you’d almost fallen asleep but Lika nuzzled her snout into your neck and sniffed you deeply, jolting you awake before you smiled and wrapped your arm around her head. You began to stroke the side of her head as you heard a low and deep voice beckon from the entrance of the stables.

“Fuck are you doin’ girl.”

Your head snapped towards him, relief befell you once you saw it was him, the Hound.

You looked back towards your book, “Reading, or I was anyway.” You replied softly

“Read in your room,” He said gruffly as his large hand opened the doors to the stable wider. He was so tall he ducked into the doorway as he walked inside.

“I’ll decide where I read.” you said defiant as always.

With a dry chuckle he began to walk towards you, “Words like that are the reason you got that cut on your lip.”

“You don’t have to remind me of it.” You thought to yourself how this is exactly how you must sound to Sansa.

“Fuck-” He hissed under his breathe “You don’t want my help? Suit yourself.” He huffed “But don’t scream for me when you need it.”

“I won’t want it.” You say softly “Anyways, you can’t help me.-” You began as he cut you off

“I helped that Tyrell you love.” He said with venom in his voice and a softness in his gaze.

You furrowed your brows, stood up and faced him head on “And I have thanked you for it.”

“I know you helped that Stark girl escape.” He said matter of fact

You huffed “What do you want from me?” you asked pained

“I want you to stay away from me.”

“You seem to forget you came to me.”

“You should run from me, you should tell me to go.”

“I don’t run.”

“That’s the fucking problem with you, girl. If you’d any sense you’d think of yourself. Change that tone of yours. Change those eyes, the way you look at people… like you want to gut them.”

“I do want to.”

“Stubborn” he chuckled darkly “Stubborn will get you beaten.”

“Why did you come for me?”

“I saw the light-“

“No. If it were anyone else you’d’ve gone on your way by now.”

“Fuck does it matter?”

“Sandor-”

“Don’t call me that.” He hissed

“Tell me,” You say, raising a hand to his scarred cheek. He flinched and backed away quickly. His scowl deepened. He moved away from you, he turned to face outside the stables. “You wrapped your hand round my throat, and you won't let me touch your cheek?”

“It’s different, you’re not ruined.” He said whilst he stared into the nothingness outside the stable doors.

“Am I not?” You asked, your words felt sharp.

“No, no you are not.” His words felt gentler.

“I’ve no one, I’ve only this cage I sit in.”

“You’ve got someone,” He scoffed over his shoulder at me, my eyes looking up at him widening against my will. “You’ve got that Tyrell,” You huffed, “That stark child that follows you like a bloody shadow.” He looked back into the night, “I’ve got no one,”

“You do,” You say without noticing how bold it was until he turned to you, “Or you would, if you’d let them.”

“My brother.” he mumbled, his head hung low as he walked closer to you. “Pressed my cheek to the fire.” He finished, unwilling to give anything else. “I know you’ve heard the story, Baelish, that cocksucking rat, no doubt told you.”

“Course he did.” You didn’t lie, you never could to him. “But I asked you.”

He smirked slightly, his head still slightly turned away from you not wanting you to see.

Your hand rose to caress his cheek, you did it slowly. He flinched his head away slightly and in turn you pulled your hand back slightly. As his head came back, moving closer towards you. You moved your hand to his cheek once more, slowly. He grabbed your wrist before it could make contact with his face.

“Look at me,” He hissed “I’m a killer, the things I’ve done-” He thought back on those things “You don’t want this girl.” His grip on your wrist did not loosen, as if he was genuinely trying to protect you. “You’ll wed some lord, you’ll have his sons, and you’ll be far and gone from this shit city.”

“I don’t want to wed a lord.” Your eyes now are not so hateful but sad.

“World, doesn’t give a fuck what you want.” His hand reached out, slightly cupped the back of your head, hardly touching. He ran his hand down the length of your hair. Once he reached the end of it he held a lock of it in his hand to examine the color in the candle light. His deep, rich brown eyes reached yours once more. He could swear yours sparkled in any light.

“I’ll walk you to your chamber.” He said gruffly, peeling his eyes away with yours. He grabbed the book in your hand and walked towards the doors of the stables.

You let out a staged huff as you followed him.

As he led you through the halls you realized that you were doing just that, following him. He knew where your chambers were and knew how to get there swiftly.

The thought lit a fire in your chest.

As he arrived at your door he stopped, as you opened it you turned to look at him.

“You stole this from the imp.” He grumbled as he held up the book you did in fact steal.

Your eyes went from the book to him, “Are you going to report me to the Queen.” You said, you smiled slightly with your eyes. Testing him and his loyalties. He growled under his breath and walked off.

The way you tested his patience stirred something in him.

He’d definitely be taking himself in his hand that night again.

Is love the death of duty. Or is duty the death of love?

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