The Iron Throne (One Shots/Reader Inserts)

Sandor Clegane X Lannister!Reader

A/N: This is a little OOC, but I've not been feeling much like writing recently, I seem to have fallen out of sync with it! Heres to trying to write 😂🥂

You lay awake, a cold sweat drenching you, still fully clothed in your bed.

You could hear them, through the thick fabric of your tent... They were sneering, plotting.

"I hear Lord Tywin will be leaving the camp tonight," they whispered, not particularly quietly. "That means, she'll be on her own."

You lay, silently, terrified. It was no secret that you were a desirable lady... Your father did his best to protect you, hence why you were even in the war camp. He did not trust your guests at the Red Keep. Nor did he trust the uprising cult of "church-goers," as he called them. He wasn't even sure if he trusted his own Grandson.

He felt it was safest for you to accompany him... Though, nobody was supposed to know he was leaving the camp. He was scouting with a squire, he didn't want to risk you. Unfortunately, as it turned out, you were in far greater danger being left behind.

The only saving grace: they didn't know he had already gone.

You knew in hand to hand combat, you'd never stand up against a soldier. You needed someone who could.

You sat, bolt upright, gasping deeply.

Think, (Y/n)!

You jumped up quietly, heading for the curtains.

Somebody loyal to you, who wouldn't pose a threat. Someone who would be able to fight them off... Preferably someone large-

You peeped out of the curtains, checking nobody was looking. You nodded to yourself, steeling your nerves. You took a breath, before scrambling out of your tent, sprinting through the dark and damp air.

You skidded in the mud, rounding a corner, still running. You dashed the last few yards, not slowing down to duck into the last tent in the row.

You heaved for breath, heart pounding, your chest hurting a little, shocked by the chilly, night air.

"The fuck are you doing?" A very tired and grumpy Hound muttered, sitting up in his bed. He gasped ever so slightly, eyes widening. "Princess-" He obviously didn't expect it to be you.

You stepped over to his bedside.

"-They're going to come for me," you whispered, hurriedly. "They know my father has left the camp!"

He sat further up, eyes wide. He was fully awake. "They'll have to come through me first."

He rubbed a hand over his face. He stood, peering out of the curtains, confirming that nobody was following. He tied the curtains closed. "I don't think anyone would look for you here, Princess."

You perched on the end of his bed, still out of breath.

"I didn't know where else to go-"

He shook his head, "you came to the right place." He was doing his best to calm you, but on the inside, rage was burning.

He just wanted to pick up an axe, and hunt down those who planned to wrong you. He wanted to make an example of them, hang them from the trees and impale them around the camp, so that it was absolutely clear, to everyone, that he would murder anyone who hurt you.

He was overprotective, he knew that. You were so sweet, a stark contrast to everything else in his life. He admired you from afar, not wishing to scare you away.

You were terrified, skin pale, hands trembling. He never wished to see you like this.

"As much as I want to go out there, and chop 'em up... I think its best if we wait in here, until morning," he placed a hand on yours, doing his best to be comforting. He didn't really know if he was doing it right, but he hoped he was. "If I went out there to fight them, you'd be on your own in here, and I can't leave you alone. We'll wait for your father in the morning."