Sandor Clegane Imagines

#2 - Worth Every Single Bit

~~~~
Imagine the swordfight between Gregor and Sandor escalating further than in the book/show. Gregor is about to deal a deadly blow to Sandor when you intervene.
~~~~

The tourney for the Hand of the King had ended horribly yesterday. When the wood splinter from Ser Gregor's lance had found its way into Ser Hugh's throat, everyone had gasped in shock. Then followed absolute silence, apart from the gurgling sounds of Hugh's struggle for life, which had proven to be in vain.

You were on the first row as you sat and watched the gruesome scene unfold in front of you. You were the oldest of the Lannister offspring in the castle, so you had seen more men die than any of your nieces and nephews. That didn't mean you found it less gut-wrenching this time than the time before.

Sandor Clegane, or the Hound as he was more commonly known, had come to your chambers that evening. He asked if you were feeling alright after what had happened at the jousting. You had told him that you were fine and that you were very grateful for his concern towards you. The two of you'd sat and talked for a while longer, keeping each other company, until Sandor remembered he had to be on his way. You'd walked him over to the door of your chamber and kissed him goodbye on his cheek.

You had found the scarred man in a dark corner all the way back in the stables once. Night had fallen and he was just sitting there, drinking wine and crying and cursing. You had felt so bad for him and you just wanted to make him feel better, so you approached him. Even though he'd growled at you to stay away and threatened to cut you if you didn't, you had wrapped your arms around him and cradled him until he had calmed down again.

Ever since that night he's shown you nothing but kindness.

The day after the tragic accident with Ser Hugh promised to be thrilling, only a few riders still had to joust, and they were the very best. Ser Gregor rode onto the field to greet King Robert. He opened his visor and bowed before His Highness from atop a big black destrier.

The second rider to come to the King was Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers. He was donned in a shining silvery armour decorated with golden roses. The white mare he sat upon pranced past the audience elegantly, and Ser Loras made her stop right in front of Lady Sansa, and gave his rose of preference to her. You thought it was adorable how it made her blush. The knight rode on next to Ser Gregor, and bowed to the King as well.

His Grace motioned the men to take their positions in the field so the joust could finally begin. You turned your head back, looking for Sandor who normally stood next to Robert's seat. You found him there as usual and exchanged your worried expression with his brooding one. After all, it was his brother standing there on that field and you knew how they felt about each other. A barely visible smile formed on his lips, but you knew it was there and you happily replied with a smile of your own.

Ser Gregor's horse seemed strange, like something was wrong with it. It was misbehaving and it beat its hooves sharply into the sand. Nonetheless, when the signal was given, the knight spurred the coal black beast forward.

Both men braced for impact, and as they closed in, Ser Loras' lance found its way into Ser Gregor's chest. The force of the blow shoved the towering man right off his unruly horse. The crowd cheered for the champion of the game.

A seething Ser Gregor scrambled up from the dirt and roared "Sword!" to nobody in particular. A squire came sprinting towards the Mountain with a greatsword in its scabbard under his arm. Gregor, furious, pulled it out and landed the blade on his horse's neck in one fluent move.

The audience awed and gasped, clearly startled by the towering man's actions. He strode over to Loras and smacked him off his horse with one blow of his sword. As the Knight of Flowers struggled in the dirt, Gregor landed another blow, which Loras only just managed to block with his shield.