The Lamb and the Hound (Sandor Clegane/The Hound x Reader)
Pairing: Sandor Clegane (The Hound) x Reader
Warnings: Light attempted rape mentioned (not by Sandor), Battle of Blackwater, fire mention
Everybody was always taken aback by your kindness. Despite having grown up in King’s Landing, you didn’t seem to have a scheming bone in your body. You secured a position as a maid in the Red Keep when you were a young girl, and now as a woman in your late twenties you were glad to have kept that position. It was hard enough to find work in your position; many girls who had been born on the streets like you had turned to brothels to make a living. You were not that kind of girl. Ever since you had earned a position in the Red Keep you have made sure to do your best, lest you would be booted to the street.
This position was made all the more difficult when Joffrey ascended to the throne. If he had been bad as a Prince, he was fifty times worse as the King. You would never say this to anyone out loud, as he would surely take your head if he found out, but you were frightened of his violent nature. He was mad. You knew that he despised your kindness, having mocked you on many occasions. Once he had you thrown to the floor in front of the Iron Throne which he sat upon, calling for a member of his Kingsguard to come and take what they wanted from you. A couple of the men had stepped up, you were a very beautiful girl after all. However, before they could do anything The Hound stepped up to deny them.
He had protected you. You knew that if he had not threatened the men and used his position as Sworn Shield to put the King in his place, they would have had their way with you. You were forever grateful to The Hound for this, always making sure to smile when you saw him.
Over time, you noticed that the glances you spared him would last longer. Your eyes would linger on his for a few moments too long before you would turn away with a furious blush, hoping that he had not noticed. On one occasion you had bought extra lemon cakes, deciding to bring some to him. As you handed them to him, your hand brushed against his and sent a spark up your arm and through your body. You bid a speedy goodbye to The Hound, but as you tried to leave he grabbed your arm.
“Please,” he said, his voice sending tingles up your spine. “Call me Sandor.” And from that day on you did.
You never would have admitted it, but the longer this went on the worse your infatuation got. At first you brushed it off as intrigue, thankful that the man had saved you. The lingering glances only meant that you were interested in him as a person, you told yourself. You tried to ignore the instance with the desserts, deciding that the spark was from the air and not from his touch. As time went on though, you couldn’t continue to come up with excuses. Even when you were alone you would think of him, imagining his strong arms around you. Whenever you had trouble sleeping, which had become often under the rule of King Joffrey, all you had to do was imagine laying on Sandor’s chest with his arms around you and you were out like a light.
The other ladies on staff had taken notice of the way that you would look at Sandor, and they mocked you endlessly for it. “The Lamb and the Hound”, they would say, as your kindness had earned you the nickname “Little Lamb” from the rest of the handmaids. They teased you incessantly, poking fun at how different the two of you were. He was a fighter, and you could’t bear the thought of killing so much as a spider. He was strong and tall, and you were much more of a dainty lady. Compared to him you were rather short, despite the height you were around other women.
The other handmaids would giggle as they saw him approaching, making you blush heavily and try to quiet them. Thankfully he never noticed, at least you had assumed. He never said anything to you afterwards, but unbeknownst to you he always rounded the corner with a satisfied smirk.
One day as you were making your way back to your chambers, a group of women rushed past you the opposite way.
“Y/N,” one of your handmaid friends yelled from the crowd, “come on!”
“What is happening?” You yelled back, nearly being stampeded by the masses.
“It’s Stannis Baratheon, he’s attacking King’s Landing! His ships are arriving now! We must get to safety, Cersei has an area planned for us!” Her words circled your head as she continued to flee, rushing towards this supposed safe haven Cersei had chosen. You had never trusted Cersei, and spending what could potentially be your last hours with her was not something that you wanted to do. You continued to your chambers, closing the door behind you and pushing the furniture you were able to move in front of it. Your heart pounded.
Through your fear, you still thought of Sandor. Although you were worried for your own safety, you couldn’t help but worry for his as well. He may not have been yours, but you still held him in your heart. As he had sworn to protect Joffrey, he was certainly on the shores fighting with the rest of the King’s men. You felt a few tears slip from your eyes as you imagined the scene. Sandor surrounded by Stannis’ men. Sandor ran through with a sword and pushed into the ocean, left to drown. The longer you worried, the worse the scenarios became.
A loud bang at the door startled you, making you jump to your feet and press your back against the wall opposite the door.
“Open up!” Said a gruff voice, and you could see the door shaking as someone tried to pry it open from the other side. You had heard stories of what happened to the women in ransacked cities. You knew what one of Stannis’ men would do to you. They would claim you as a prize.
“No!” You yelled defiantly, not realizing that you would have given up your position if it were anyone else outside the door.
“Little Lamb, I know you are in there!”
Little Lamb? You thought. Only the other maids called you that. The other maids and…
“Sandor?” You asked creeping towards the door. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” he muttered back impatiently. “Now open the bloody door!”
You moved the furniture out of the way as quickly as you could. As soon as the majority of it had been moved, Sandor swung the door open and pushed his way through what furniture remained. Relieved, you ran into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest.
“I was so worried,” you said, sobbing into his chest. You felt his arms envelop you. They were as strong as you imagines as they held you firmly to him.
“As was I about you,” he stated. He pulled away to look at you, raking his eyes up and down your body to check that you were unharmed. “We are leaving,” announced Sandor, grabbing your hand and pulling you after him.
“Why?” You asked innocently, making Sandor let out a low growl.
“I can’t stand it here any longer, Little Lamb. Especially now that you are in danger.”
You felt fire course through your body at his words. Your stomach fluttered and did flips.
“What do you mean?” You knew what he meant, or at least you had assumed. You just needed to hear him affirm it.
“Isn’t it bloody obvious woman? I care about you.” He divulged, continuing to lead you down the long corridors of the Red Keep. Eventually making your way to the stables, you found a suitable horse surprisingly quickly considering the chaos outside. Sandor hopped on first before reaching down to help you, picking you up and setting you behind him as if you weighed nothing. You had to admit that his strength sent butterflies through your body.
You wrapped your arms around Sandor’s torso, holding him tight as the horse begin galloping through the streets. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to block out the chaos.
“It’s okay Y/N,” he said, trying his best to calm you. You used your arms to pull yourself even closer to him, resting your head on his back.
He led the dark horse through the streets of King’s Landing, eventually riding through the gates and into the rest of Westeros. When you believed that you had made it far enough out of the city, you opened your eyes. You looked up at Sandor, your savior, in the moonlight. Although you were seated behind him, you were able to see the side of his face rather well. The moonlight filtered through the smoke and the clouds to lang on his face in a way that made him look even more handsome that normal. You looked at the other side of his face, the right side where he held his scar. You had heard whispers of his brother Gregor holding his face to the fire as children. You didn’t mind the scar; it didn’t bother you in the way that it bothered most. If anything you liked it. It made Sandor all the more alluring in your eyes.
You stayed close to Sandor, pressing your body against his as the pair of you continued to ride further away from the warring city behind you. Before you knew it you were asleep, holding the man you loved in your arms.
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