hey babes! it’s been awhile since i’ve done a follow forever, but i decided this time to do a very special mutuals appreciation post instead, featuring every single one of my amazing mutuals! thank you all for putting up with my insane ramblings, spectacularly shitty blogging, and countless url changes - i love all of you so much, you have no idea! ♥
Note: Here it is! I got some really nice comments about part one, so I’m absolutely stoked to give you guys a part two. The way it looks right now, there may even be a part three, eventually. I hope you guys like! xx
Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Strong language, basically just Sandor’s filthy mouth ><
Summary: Sandor takes the reader back to her chambers and they have a bit of a heart-to-heart.
By the time you arrived at your chambers, your breathing had returned to normal but a deep aching pain riveted your body. Sandor kicked open your door and you heard it bang against the wall before he laid you down on your bed.
He positioned you carefully with your head on the pillows and pulled your duvet over your body. Looking at him now, you were reminded of all of the times he’d saved you, back when you were nothing but a new arrival to King’s Landing. Back when you were too naive to know that the walls have ears, the birds tell tales, and very few of the locals weren’t snakes in disguise.
The only reason you’d even ‘moved in’, essentially, was your nobility and hitherto unwed status. Your father was a knight, arguably more prickly around the personality than even Sandor, and your mother was a highborn lady who taught you nothing except how to be desirable to noblemen. When you’d decided to make a place for yourself in the Red Keep alongside other eligible noble bachelorettes, you had been foolish, a glaring red target for anyone willing to take advantage. Yet, Sandor Clegane, of all people, protected you. Even when the messes you got into didn’t affect anyone but yourself, he had been there, always, towering over each ill-willed guard to back you into a dark corner, and scaring off every silver tongued palace snake to try and put you in a bind. Sandor was always there, and now was no different.
He was just turning to leave when you grabbed his arm.
“Stay” beseeched your hoarse whisper, “please, Sandor.“
You were well aware of how catastrophic his anger could be. After all, anger and violence was what house Clegane was known for, no? So you pleaded, because maybe if he was here with you, he couldn’t quite hate himself as much or beat himself up as bad as he could alone. No telling what he’d get himself into that you probably wouldn’t be able to get him out of whole if he were to leave.
He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t pull away from your grasp either. He simply stood, tall as a mountain above you, his breathing harsh.
"That little cunt…” He hissed after a few moments. The muscles in his arm flexed. “That little cunt will pay for yer pain.“
Gods, he was furious. And sounding much too hasty. Many a man had lost their life to a much less livid Sandor Clegane.
"But he doesn’t have to pay today,” Your grip tightened. You tugged him weakly, “Stay with me, Sandor, I need you."
His eyes found yours and you could once again see all the pain that lay there. In the time you’d known him, you found that he held all of his emotions there, behind his eyes where most people were to scared to even look.
Your chest panged and you tugged on him again but he was already pulling away. Just like him to be so stubborn. You huffed.
You were sure he was leaving, unable to let anyone, even you, in to help him, as always. He may be a protective partner, but a cuddly emotional one, he certainly was not. He’d never opened up to you before, never let you in to help heal old wounds you knew were still there, and in that way, you felt like your relationship was severely lopsided. He could save you many a time but he’d never let you save him.
You found a nice dent in the wooden beam above you to focus on instead of the hurt in your chest and the sting in your eye. You lay there, listening to his footsteps, waiting for the silence to come after the clanging of his armor drifted off down the hall.
Yet, it never did.
Instead, his clanging never drifted away, even after your heavy door swung shut. Your eyes bore into the dent above as you felt massive weight shift onto the mattress.
When you turned to look at him, Sandor’s broad shoulders were slumped down over his lap where he sat on the edge of your bed.
"I told ya, lass, I’m a monster.” That he had,many times, and each time you denied it.
“No you’re not."
"I hurt you."
"You had to."
Aching as you were, you wanted to comfort him so your arms started grappling to help you up. Sandor turned immediately and pushed your shoulders gently back down. "Stop yer fumbling, woman, yer hurt."
Your eyes flickered and you grabbed the cool metal armor on his bicep again.
"You’re no good blaming yourself for something you couldn’t have prevented” his face was unreadable as you spoke, “there was no way you could have refused the king’s orders, he’d have tortured you too if you-"
"Fuck the king.” Sandor growled darkly, his fuming anger taking you off guard for a moment, especially when he was so close to you like that.
“Fuck him sideways halfway to Essos, and damn him down through the seven hells."
You lay in silence, just taking in the angry contortion of Sandor’s face until it softened and his thumb brushed your jaw. A very rare act of affection, and one much appreciated.
"One day I’m gonna take ya away from here.” Sandor vowed in a voice more soft and gentle than you’d ever heard from him before.
Your lips slid into a slight smile. "I’ll hold you to that promise, my hound.“
Sandor’s gentility was surprising to you but when he smiled, a real smile that touched his eyes if even only a small bit, your heart skipped. He was a good man, that was a fact you knew to be true, even if you were the only one in Westeros who could see it. He was a good man deep down under his rough exterior, behind all the things he’d had to do in his life. He was yours, and he was good, even if only to you.
"I’ve got to leave now, little dove, but I’ll see to it that you’re taken care of.”
Your began to protest again but he wouldn’t hear it.
“Hush, lass, I have to return to court or I’ll be suspect, but I promise I won’t gut anyone…today, at least."
You relented then and he tugged your coverlet back over you again, fussing with your pillow a bit to fluff it, and you found yourself pondering that if Ser Sandor Clegane had ever looked like a mother hen, now was it. You couldn’t help but chuckle then wince at the subsequent ache and sink tiredly into your bed.
“Go on then, stop your fussing and guard your brat.” You groaned in jest. Sandor only smiled and leaned down to do something you would never have expected of him. He placed a kiss on your head. your smile was as beaming as it could be, drooping eyes and all.
It wasn’t but a few seconds later that you found yourself drifting off, your last waking vision being that of Sandor as he quietly stepped out of your chambers, and shut the door behind him. You could still faintly hear his heavy footsteps getting quieter down the hall when you fell into a deep sleep and dreamt only of leaving King’s Landing for good, your hound at your side.
“Sansa giving you trouble again?” Theon asked you as you pushed past him, making your way towards the stables. You didn’t stop. You knew he liked you, and you knew it made sense for you to return his friendship and adoration. You just couldn’t. There was only one person who could make you feel better when you felt like this. He would know where to find you. All you had to do was hide and wait.
Just like always, you didn’t have to stay hidden for long. Jon didn’t say a word when he ducked into the back of the stables, sitting down next to you. He always sat so close that you bodies were touching, even if you both knew you were slowly getting too old to even be alone like this. Neither if you cared though, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around yours.
“I hate her,” you muttered, making Jon send you a warning look.
“She’s my sister Y/N,” he reminded you, making you pull a face at him. You wanted to remind him how she treated him too, but instead, you just leaned back against him, groaning in protest.
“Fine. I don’t like her,” you corrected yourself slightly, smiling when Jon laughed.
“I don’t wanna be a maid,” you confessed, hiding your face against his shoulder. Jon pulled back a little to look at you but still held you against him.
“What do you wanna be then?” he asked you effectively dropping your jaw. Honestly you had no idea. No one had ever asked you that before, so you had never given it much thought. It wasn’t like it would matter anyway. A bastard girl from The Mountains of the Moon living in the North didn’t get a choice. You know you should be happy just to have a roof over your head.