Imagines based on characters from the Game of Thrones TV show ♥
- Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Jaime Lannister, Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton, Tyrion Lannister, Petyr Baelish, Bronn Blackwater, Jorah Mormont, Sandor Clegane, Gendry Baratheon, Oberyn Martell...
"I'm sick of your whining," he grumbled. "I'm sick of you," I retorted as we continued walking. "All I suggested was cauterising the wound with some fire," I added, rolling my eyes.
"It's not going to kill you," I continued as he suddenly stopped walking. I looked at him, remorse filling my body. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to upset you," I said softly. "It's just, you know everything that happened to me, and I know nothing about you," I added, my eyes lingering on his scar.
"Fine, let's have it your way," he said. "When I was younger, my brother pushed my face into a burning brazier for playing with one of his toys," his voice was low. "I'm sorry," I quickly said as he looked away from me.
I placed my hand on his, and he swatted it away, after all, there are only so many emotions a man can take at a time.
"Now we're even," he said as we began walking again in silence.
We reached an inn and sat down, allowing the older woman to bring us drinks and food. "Would you be able to get us a needle and some thread as well, please?" I asked sweetly as she nodded at me before hurrying off.
She returned shortly, and I turned to Sandor. He looked visibly annoyed but leaned back, giving me access to his neck.
I tried my best to stitch the wound together, hoping it would hold until the body could begin naturally healing it.
"All done," I said as I leaned down, using my teeth to break the excess thread off. My eyes met his for a fleeting moment, and he quickly looked away.
"Usually, you would say thank you," I muttered as I sat back in my seat. "I don't remember you thanking me when I stopped that slimy man Baelish from selling you to that bastard," he replied.
"That was the thing a gentleman would do," I said, and he laughed, mumbling, "Gentleman."
"You know you act all tough, but I know on the inside you have a soft spot for me," I said gently, placing my finger on his armour.
"You could run off right now, and I wouldn't care," he shrugged, and I smiled. "Oh really?" I questioned, and he grunted. "Fine, I think I will join those men over there instead," I pointed at a small group of men, all already drunk during midday.
I got up from my chair, slowly moving across. "Sit back down," he said, and I shook my head, smiling. I took another step back as he continued looking at me. With another step, I collided with the back of somebody.
"I'm so sorry," I called out as the man swore angrily, his drink ending up all over the floor. "Watch where you're going," he spat, shoving my shoulder back. I apologized again as he glared at me.
"Don't touch her," Sandor said, appearing behind me. The man looked at me and then up at Sandor and shook his head, mumbling as he walked away. Sandor grabbed my arm, bringing me back to our table.
As I returned to our table, the atmosphere lingered with unspoken tension. I couldn't help but smile at him, appreciating the layers beneath his gruff exterior. However, as my lips curved into a gentle smile, I noticed his expression growing stern.
"You should stop looking at me like that," he grumbled, his gaze meeting mine with a mixture of discomfort and warning. His eyes, usually guarded, now bore a vulnerability that caught me off guard.
"Why?" I asked, my smile not faltering. "What's wrong with a smile?"
He scoffed, avoiding my eyes as he muttered, "Don't need your pity."
"It's not pity," I replied, my tone softening. "It's understanding,"
His brows furrowed, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was about to retort. Instead, he took a long swig of his drink, the silence between us becoming a palpable force.
"You've got a way of seeing through people, don't you?" he finally said, his voice gruffer than usual. "It's unsettling."
I leaned back in my chair, studying him with genuine curiosity "Maybe you're not used to someone seeing you for who you really are."
He shot me a sidelong glance, a mix of irritation and curiosity in his eyes. "What makes you think you know who I really am?"
"Because you showed me," I replied, unwavering. "You defended me back there, not out of obligation, but because you cared and caring doesn't make you weak,"
His gaze lingered on mine, a silent acknowledgement of truths left unspoken. Despite the rough exterior and the scars that adorned him, there was a flicker of something deeper within him, a longing for connection that echoed in the quiet moments between us.
♥♥♥
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