// set around the time we found out The Hound was still alive, and had just left the village encampment of people building the sept, that nursed him back to health to go and kill those who slaughtered them all. You will come into play here... //
Grey sky, damp grounds. The rain had only stopped an hour ago, and you had been out riding North all through the night. The situation at King's Landing growing ever more brutal, and with distant umber cousins at the Last Hearth, you decided the drizzly weather and cold nights were worth a safer homeland.
You and your horse had grown weary after days of slogging onwards with only brief breaks, having only had an hours sleep in 48 hours out of worry for the bandits lurking in the dark, and you being on your own on the open road- so your horse merely crept along wearily, as you hung loosely onto the reigns, head on the beautiful chestnut mare's mane.
Approaching a fork in the path, you steer left down a steady drop into the bumpy woodland path, cutting away from the threat of passing through Bolton land and ending up flayed on a cross by the unpredictable Bolton soldiers- or worse. The chestnut steed began to nervously flick about, the darkness encumbering you both through the sudden shade of trees. All was quiet, spare the occasional twittering or rustling of wildlife fleeing from the heavy thump of the horse's hooves.
It took you a while to realise, but things had gotten almost too quiet. The animals weren't chirping any more and there were no more to flee. Sitting up on your horse, you scan around you, back straight, tensing every muscle. This was odd- no woodland in Westeros grew so quiet in the middle of the day. Even the giddy horse was quiet, as it flicked about and- stopped.
You tap it's side lightly with your feet to get it going again, only to receive a rough neigh in response and to be thrown back off your horse.
You're hardly able to get your senses about you before the yells and thuds of others encircle, and you're surrounded by men with the signet of the Brotherhood Without Banners. Confused at why men with a noble cause would be after you without reason, you raise your hand to speak up and protest your innocence- but are kicked to the mud, blacking out.
Whining. Pain. Misty vision. As your eyes flutter open, you see before you 4 men sitting around a campfire, chuckling quietly and speaking foul about all manner of things- you whimper.
They noticed. Turning sharply, they began to eye you up with nasty delight, "Well look 'ere, the little bitch has finally woken up."
Quivering slightly, you opened your mouth, again, to speak as you had before. After brief hesitation with no interruption, you spoke, "Y-you're with the brotherhood? I-I'm not someone you'd want, I don't h-have any information an-and I'm not an enemy-"
"Yeah, well, we're on a mission of our own. Consider it, a bit of a pilgrimage." One of them cut you off, chuckling. Only a few seconds passed by before the leanest, smallest of the four men was done with his hungry staring, and spoke up himself, "Lucky we are out here pilgrimaging if it's lead us to a saintly find like this then eh?" The sentence came out in a purr, and you shuffled backwards against the tree that constrained you as he made his move forward, kicking out your legs in a hap-hazardous defence and screaming out of some sheer hope and faith.
It wasn't faith that saved you, but it was two fates colliding.
As the pig grazed his bony fingers across your cheek, a towering figure struck him from the side, earning a grunt of pain and a sudden stroke of blood. He fell awkwardly to the floor as the figure retracted his weapon, a large war axe, with a slick squelch- and stood in front of you. You stiffened, as his slight turn of the head acknowledged your presence, "One moment."
Two of the remaining three men bawled out and thundered over to try and overcome the towering man. He brought his elbow round and with a sick crunch, crashed it into the face of one of the men, who stumbled back into their own fire to meet his maker; the next swung, but he had turned and landed the axe straight between the bandit's eyes as his sword clinked uselessly against the man's course armour.
As he ripped the axe out, the body it left behind jerked around; to you it appeared to freeze for a moment before falling, and you locked with eyes that cried blood from the gash separating them. You went from frozen still to shaking and kicking again, fearing what the man would do to you when his foul cursing at the one that had escaped quietened down.
After standing silent for a while, he turned to face you- and his infamous face immediately caught your attention. The grisly, somber expression of Sandor Clegane- with the scars of childhood haunting the right side of his face.
You sit, frozen from shock, as he bends down and begins to untangle you from the tree. A few moments of silence pass, before the quiet creature speaks up, "What's your name?"
You try and mutter a response but are left wordless, wide-eyed, wondering. The only thing that you utter is, "You're The Hound."
You hear an irritable grunt- evidently you weren't the only one straying away from King's Landing for a reason, and he clearly didn't want to be known, "I didn't ask you what my name was." He growled gruffly in response. Blinking, you come to your senses and speak up, "er... Y/N. Y/N L/N."
"What are you doing out here?"
Looking into his eyes- not that they were looking back, they were too focused on unknotting you- you tried to judge The Hound's intent. He was infamous for a reason- a skilled warrior, but a feared one nevertheless, and supposedly a King's Guard, allied with those in King's Landing-
Your thoughts once again lead you astray from his question and caused you to forget it, and in response you merely ask, "What are you doing so far from King's Landing? You're supposed to be King's Guard aren't you? Don't see how you're guarding him from all the way out here."
He stops for a moment, almost having untied you, and stares you straight in the eyes. You go pink at the hardness of his gaze, still able to admire the gruff beauty of his features despite the severe burns running along one side- if anything, they merely complement his character. Your admiration dithers as you realise he is still staring- suspicious, shifty.
Awkwardly coughing, you stutter out "Well then, that doesn't matter." He grunts, and finishes freeing you. Despite your thoughts being clearer, if not slightly confused, your body is still stiffened by the shock of the kidnap- hence it ripples with surprise as a firm iron grip managed to gently lift you to your feet- for a monster, The Hound appeared to be acting more like a gentleman.
You chuckle at the thought of the big scary brother to Gregor Clegane having a heart, and he looks at you funny, his brow deepening over his eyes more than you realised was possible as he folded his arms, "What's so funny?"
You shake your head, but his scary persistent dagger eyes open your mouth as they shut it before- "I just... didn't expect you to show up and decide to save me. I didn't know the hound had the warmth of a puppy when he wanted-" you cant help but crack a smile despite the irritable expression facing you- until it came closer as the hounded made a single large step towards you.
You had to look up at him, and blush an even rosier hue of red as the intimidation finally won you over. He merely spat out, "You wouldn't be finding me cute if you were on the other side of things that just happened." As if his voice alone hadn't shook you enough, he tossed his axe with force into the ground beside you, causing you to yelp and flinch away. When you're finally able to compose yourself, he smirked only briefly, before turning his back to you and beginning to storm off to his horse- you hadn't noticed it in the rush of things before. Wait-
"Wait, where are you going?" You asked, suddenly panicking. He stopped, but didn't turn, only tilting his head slightly, "North. Not that you should care. If that's all you have to ask-"
"You just saved my life! And- well I don't know if you noticed but my horse isn't exactly waiting for me- at-at least let me come with you-"
"-and what good would that do? If you're going to die here with a little chance of making it to wherever you're going, you're going to certainly die where I'm going, after I'm done finding the rest of these bastards." He seemed almost angry, and shouted this last sentence. He had turned to you once again, and yet you felt no fear as you looked back into his eyes.
"...I owe it to you to at least try and help you. I don't know what your plans are, I don't know why you want to kill these types of... men. But I haven't got anywhere to go really."
He shook his head, "Fucking h- well you must have been going somewhere safe. And that's better than a cold death north of castle black, aye?"
He turned again, but you gritted your teeth and sprinted to him, thankful of the grace given to you by your leather britches and riding boots opposed to the more appropriate warm dresses you were confined by in the south. You grab his arm, but a single hard shrug from him sends you flying into the leaves.
In the flutter of gold and brown that encompasses you, you continue to glare at Sandor, almost betrayed somewhat by this man you've only met for mere minutes.
"Guess I'll just die then." You murmur, and he slows his mounting. He looks down at you in the dirt, and you see the conflict stirring in him by the way his fingers twitch, and his brow wavers.
He murmurs some foul words that you're glad you couldn't hear, and taking my by surprise, he bends down and wraps his arms around your torso. You don't have time to question him as he hauls you up on to the front of the horse and jumps on behind you, his arms enclosing around you to reach the reigns.
It was a strange sensation. To feel safe and honoured at being caught between the steady held arms of someone you would once have frowned upon- to feel comforted by the steady rhythm of breath rocking up and down on your neck, and to be content, calmed, rather than paranoid and nervy.
"So... Sandor, it is? You never told me why you left King's Landing." You ask politely. A hesitation confirms his surprise, "You know my name?" You nod softly, and he hums feigned disinterest, before countering back, "Well you never told me what you're doing out here, Y/N." You're dazed at the sound of your name coming from his mouth,
Guess I'm not the only one using names as a weapon here.
"... I'm moving away from King's Landing. It's getting... messy, and my parents and sister told me I'd be safer with my Umber cousins at Last Hearth. So I set out in the night, 2 days ago now. I've been travelling since."
"They didn't come with you?" He pushes, and you decide you owe it to be open,
"They were too afraid. The road being dangerous, if they sent Goldcloaks after us- a ridiculous thought."
He chuckled, and this time, you were the confused one, "Oh, not afraid of danger are you?"
You feel a grin play onto your face- you wouldn't be the laughing stock of this jesting game he decided he would play, "Well, I'm sitting on a horse with one of the most infamous men in the seven kingdoms, riding off to god knows where, aren't I?" This time, his chuckle is softer, and his grip on the reigns tightens. You couldn't tell if he had grown saddened, or tense.
"I could drop you off at the Last Hearth. You'd be safe. That's where you were going anyway, why change your mind now?"
You thought about it, musing yourself. You had your reasons, of course. And you spoke up of one of many, "I like you. I don't have much going for me there, nowhere really seems safe at the minute, but you seem safe- my own bodyguard to teach me how to myself." Is your chipper response.
The breath on your neck falters for a second, as the Hound stays silent. He isn't exactly the most nerdy type, but you don't mind. It's comforting to know you're with someone who takes things seriously.
"You remind me of someone else that I used to travel with. But you're much older and much more-" he stops mid sentence, and you aren't sure whether he's struggling to find the word, or doesn't want to say it. Maybe... no. Either way, you've figured by now that pushing him isn't the best idea.
You lean back into him as you both break out of the cover of trees, cold, and curious to test your boundaries. He gives no complaints, and in fact, his arms appear to cradle round you more as you do so. It could be affection- or just practicality. Either way, you're happy to spend the rest of the chilling journey just like this, and he appears to be too.
You would be able to test his feelings another time, when the road was safer, and the wrath of winter was either over, or inevitable.
A/N: okay please don't kill me it's been like 2 years lmao but I'm at College now so even though it's hard it's not GCSEs and I really really missed doing this... I've still got some old requests to fulfill, but feel free to request here or anywhere and I'll get on it ASAP! Get ready to see more of me, I'll hopefully get an imagine out at the least once per week my duckies 😘