Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Three

Sandor Clegane X Stark!Reader - It Will Come Back

A/N - This chapter was inspired by the song It Will Come Back by Hozier. Reader is the daughter of Brandon Stark and the niece of Eddard. I hope you all enjoy it. 

You really couldn't help but find Sandor intriguing from the moment you had first set eyes on him. He stood in a way that made him look as unapproachable as possible, his eyes scanning the crowd, on constant high alert. And of course, that had only captured your imagination. There was no way that he could be as awful as people made him out to be. Sure, he may be coarse at times, but that didn't make him a bad person. 

"You mustn't stare at the poor beast," a voice interrupted your thoughts, and your head quickly shot up to find the prince smirking down at you. "I know he's awful to look at and it's hard to tear your eyes away from those horrific scars, but if he catches you staring he may think you're interested in him and then he'll never stop hassling you," he pressed on, his smirk only growing when you frowned softly at him. "He doesn't deserve you being kind to him; he's a dog."

It had killed you to agree with him. It had hurt your heart to ever even consider saying something as cruel as the things he said about Sandor. But you'd forced it anyway, giving a short nod. "Yes, My Prince," you hummed.

Even after the warning, you had often caught yourself watching the Hound as he stood guard. There had to be more to him than what you could see, you were sure of it, and you were hoping that if you watched for long enough maybe you would be able to catch a glance of whatever was hiding beneath the surface.

One evening, you had been standing on the edge of the dancing, watching the ladies twirling to the music and risking the odd glance towards where Sandor was hovering, waiting for a call to action. And then, you had felt a hand on your elbow, catching your attention, and when you'd turned around, your eyes had widened in horror. 

"What do I need to do to stop you staring?" he grumbled, and you'd been totally flummoxed.

Never in your time in the Capital had Sandor spoken a word to you, and you had never expected him to, but here he was and suddenly you didn't know how to speak.

"I'm sorry."

"It's distracting," he pressed on. "Can feel you watching me."

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm sorry, Ser," you murmured, looking down like some scolded little girl, and seeming so damn ashamed of yourself that suddenly Sandor felt bad for even mentioning it. 

"You want to know about how I got the scars," he stated. "That's what you're staring at-"

"No," you interrupted, and when his eyes drifted back to you, you were wearing matching expressions of confusion. "I just-" your words trailed off. "I thought you seemed interesting," you told him, clearing your throat. "I was trying to figure out who you are."

"You know who I am. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms would recognise this face-"

"Not your name," you murmured, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. "You," you pressed on. "The You that hides behind the armour and the scars and scowling," you told him, hearing him snort with laughter when you accidentally did an impression of his signature scowl. "I wanted to know who that version of you is."

Sandor hesitated for a moment. "I don't have friends," he told you, watching your head tilt to the side. 

"Isn't that lonely?"

He opened his mouth as though he was going to answer before catching himself and simply staring down at you for a moment. "Stop watching me," he muttered, shaking his head slightly before walking away, leaving you in a rather startled daze.

*Time Skip*

You were sitting in the library when you'd next seen Sandor again, feeling his eyes lingering on you before you had actually seen him. 

"So it's alright for you to stare, but it's a problem when I do it?" you hummed, not even lifting your attention from your book as you listened to him approach you, the floorboards creaking under each step. 

"It's my job to watch people," he reminded you. "You're just too curious for your own good," he pressed on, his heart stuttering in his chest when you glanced up at him with the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

"My Uncle tells me that curiosity is a good thing. It shows a willingness to learn."

Sandor shook his head, tapping the table lightly. "That advice might work in the North, but in the Capital, curiosity could get you killed. Ask the wrong people the wrong questions and someone might think you're looking for trouble."

Your head tipped to the side slightly. "I don't think you're the wrong people though, are you?" you murmured, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hand as you continued to smile at him. "In think, deep down, you want to be my friend and tell me all of your secrets," you added, watching his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip. 

"I don't have friends-"

"So you told me," you interrupted. "But I think you just don't know how to make friends. And I do, so I fully intend on winning you over," you pressed on, chuckling when he let out a disgruntled sigh. "You sought me out, Sandor, not the other way around," you reminded him.

He hesitated for a moment before pulling out the chair from the other side of the table and sitting down, still frowning. "What do you want to know?"

A small smile pulled at your lips as you considered your first question. "What's your favourite food?"

"I don't have a favourite-"

"Everyone has a favourite food," you interrupted before he could derail the conversation. "Sansa loves lemon cake. Arya likes chocolate."

"What's your favourite?"

You let out an airy chuckle. "I asked first," you reminded him, grinning as though the two of you had been the best of friends since you were children. "Don't avoid the question."

"Meat pie," he finally grunted, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. "Now you-"

"Gingerbread," you told him, causing him to hum out an agreement. 

"That's a good one."

"I have wonderful taste."

Sandor fell silent for a moment. "Does this make us friends?"

"Do you want to be my friend?"

He nodded slightly. "I do."

"Then we're friends."

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