Game of Thrones One Shots

Nightmare: Sandor Clegane x Reader

Request: can you do a Sandor fic with prompt 86 () where he's having a nightmare and the reader comforts him

Warnings: swearing (it's Sandor duh.)

Your bones weighed heavy, weary from all the travelling. It was the same routine from one miserable day to the other. Wake up on the cold ground, straighten out your tunic, mount Stranger, ride until all blood had been drained from your legs, get off, make camp, go to sleep and then, start all over again.
A shiver ran through your body as nightfall approached. You still hadn't made camp. Of course you didn't want to upset the big warrior behind you, so you suffered in silence. For the past three days he had been overly nice to you. That was of course nice in his way. He didn't snap at you and mostly left you alone. You were beginning to miss his teasing, the way he would try to hurt you but all his remarks always seemed more playful than anything else. You missed his bickering, but if things were going better, you would appreciate that too.

You thought that if you didn't bother him unnecessarily, you would maybe be more than a travelling companion, a source of money to him. Because you wanted more. The first week with him had been horrible, but now, you couldn't stop imagining. Your mind ran wild during those silent rides and in the night your dreams were even more vivid.

His arms were around you all day. Of course he wouldn't notice that, he just had to hold onto the reins, but his figure was so broad that he naturally had to rest his arms at your side. During the day, you kept admiring the curve of his muscles hidden underneath all that armour and his rough hands that did oh so gently guide Stranger forwards. Sometimes you would even dare to steal a quick glance at his face. His wonderful, beautiful face.
If he only knew what you were thinking, you bet he would either yell at you, or he would laugh at your silliness.

You sighed and felt him shift behind you. Perhaps he had noticed your discomfort as he brought Stranger to a halt.
"We'll stay here for the night", he said and dismounted. Then, his fingers weer digging into the flesh of your hips as he lifted you off his warhorse.
"I'll make the fire", you offered him. He simply nodded and went to find some food. You knew he was afraid of fire and that meant that you would always make it. it was your way of saying three words that you would never say to him in person. Damn those three words.

He returned, a squirrel in hand and stripped it of its fur. It wasn't much between the two of you, but it was better than nothing. Soon, you chose a spot next to the dying fire to rest your eyes. He also decided to go to sleep but he never let go of the hilt of his sword and he would not warm himself by the flames.
"Goodnight", you chirped and immediately wanted to kick yourself for it. He hated curtsies. You wanted him to like you and not the opposite.

Something woke you. He was thrashing around, kicking invisible ghosts. At first you thought he was fighting off some bandits but no, just the air. Lighting bolts ran down your skin. Something about the way he shook and panted was ungodly. He was clearly suffering.
You crawled over to him on all fours. It was too early int he day and you hadn't regained full control of your body yet. Your limbs hung, and you knew that if you tried standing up, you would fall quicker than a bird without wings.

You crawled over to him and out a soothing hand on his torso.
"Sandor", you whispered ever so gently. No reaction. He was still trapped in his nightmare. Then, you remembered what your mother had done when you had been little. You knew that he would give you shit for it but that didn't matter to you. He was your protector but, in his dreams, he was the one who needed rescuing. And you were the only one who could do it.
You moved to sit behind him and crossed your legs. With all your might and power, you managed to lift his upper body into your embrace. A song on your lips, you gently rocked him and wiped the sweat from his brow.

He still didn't wake, but his breathing became steadier and he no longer battled the demons in his mind. You watched him in the dim light of the early morning. His breath hitched again.
You gently cooed at him. "Don't be scared, I'm right here." You repeated that phrase until sleep took your body out of this world and into another one, your arms still wrapped around him tightly and his head held close to your chest.

When the first light of the day illuminated the sky and the birds began to sing your tunes, you heard Sandor groan.
Your eyes fluttered open just in time to catch the confusion splattered across his face.
"What in seven hells." His eyes darted to your arms around his chest.
"You were screaming in your sleep. I comforted you. Don't be a dick about it." You tried sounding as unbothered as possible, but you could feel your treacherous cheeks heat up with blood. No, you hadn't minded sleeping like that, your bodies so close and his breath against your beating heart. Slowly, you removed your arms and tried to wiggle out from underneath his weight.
"Sorry", he said and rose to his feet. Did he just apologise? Had Sandor Clegane just apologised? And that to you? You couldn't help but smile a little.
"Please don't be", you said, swatting the dirt of your clothes, "It is the least I could do, and I would gladly do it again." He was still embarrassed, you could see it from the way his gaze would never leave the ground. You looked at him, biting your lip and wanted to tell him, you did. But those three words were the hardest thing to say.
Instead, you closed the distance between the tow of you and still high on that confidence, you took his hand into yours. Slowly, you rubbed small circles into the back of his hand. Ever so slowly, you looked up to him and met his brown eyes.

He was in shock. He looked at you like you were going to kill him, drain the life out of him and leave him to rot. Still, you smiled at him and then, you felt his other hand reach the small of your back. he pushed you even further into him, his armour rattling. The next thing you could remember was his lips on yours, sealed tightly but tenderly.

A/N: Sorry if this isn't what you wanted, anon. I just lost my inspiration and will to ever touch a key board again half way through.

I have mostly Sandor requests (then Jon, then Sansa) in my inbox (15 in total) so now I'm trying to publish a Sandor fic and another character a day. I know that I'm most "known" for Sandor and that most people are here for him, so look forward to one fic for him every day and another character. (hopefully I will have the discipline to do so)

Also also, the poem Erlkönig by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe popped into my head while writing this. No idea why...