P Y R O P H O B I C

Sandor exhaled slowly through his nose as he took on board what had been said to him by Daenerys, the woman he called his queen. They wanted nothing but power, just as she had said, but as far as Sandor was concerned that had always been the case when it came to marrying monarchs. He had seen countless daughters marched up to future kings while fathers preened about how excellent such a union would be for various lands. Daenerys was the first to seem to feel otherwise. Sandor made his way to the door, loudly announcing that the Queen would not be seeing any more suitors and that they would have to return tomorrow. After a protest about having waited for hours, the large beast of a man bared his teeth, growling until they all quickly scarpered. To think he didn’t even need to get out his sword. “With all due respect, your Grace, it’s something you might want to consider. I mean… none of these cunts love you,” he muttered, then gesturing vaguely towards where the disgruntled men lay in wait. “You’re the Queen. Not only the Queen, but the Queen that happens to own fucking dragons. These cunts aren’t turning up because of your soft nature or strong constitution – and you’re fucking smart enough to see that too. It might be worth just treating this as a business deal, see who can offer you the best and then just take a lover when you actually find someone you’re interested in. Before Targaryens took more than one lover – one out of duty and one out of desire. I was forced to learn all that shite and all.”

To say that Sandor Clegane was a social butterfly not only would’ve been an incredible overstatement, but an outright lie. He had often spoken about how he preferred dogs to people, how they weren’t liars or backstabbers, how if a dog was going to attack you you would fucking know about it. Sandor considered himself to be the same. He was brutal, undeniably so, but what he prided himself on was that anyone he was about to kill or attack, knew precisely that he was about to attack them. He didn’t do sneak attacks. He looked someone in the eyes before ending their life. And now the feared warrior had his back to a giggling girl, flustered that he had excused himself from being pressed against a naked woman for well, at least he believed the reasoning was clear. “You’re a woman, aren’t you? You’ll have had that effect, you just have been sheltered from it,” he grumbled uncouthly, finding talking about feelings – physical or otherwise – far too complicated to talk about. He glanced over his shoulder, only to see her grinning up at him. “…This thing will probably pop up more now you’re less sheltered.”

this ship was not intentional a novel by me.

oh look now it’s my otp a sequel novel by me

OH another thing I've been busy with was my local pride was a transphobic mess????? So I've been working with some local trans people to sort it out.

// Reminder, I’ve just been far too busy recently. Thanks for understanding.