Sandor Clegane Imagines

Request #2 - Not So Bad

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Imagine Sandor finally letting you touch his scars.
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The tourney for the Hand of the King had been truly exhilarating. For the most part it was fun and exciting, but there had also been some incidents that were tragic to witness. When a large splinter from Ser Gregor's lance struck Ser Hugh in the throat, for example. And the day after, when Ser Gregor attacked Ser Loras and Gregor's younger brother saved the Knight of Flowers' life.

Sandor may not have known it yet, but you felt connected to the scarred man. You had heard all about the story of the Mountain and the Hound from Petyr Bealish. About how Gregor had held Sandor's face into a burning brazier for playing with one of his toys, and you identified greatly with the story. It reminded you of your own trauma, a trauma of which you too still carried the scars to this day.

It was the day after the tourney had ended that you encountered him in one of the many hallways of the Red Keep. As he approached and you were about to cross paths, you smiled sweetly at him and said: "Excuse me, Ser, I just wanted to say that you fought very bravely yesterday."

"Spare me your rehearsed courtesies, and your ser's for that matter. I'm no Ser. I spit on Sers and their vows."

"I am so sorry if I offended you, I meant no disrespect. I was only complimenting you."

"You delusional little highborn girls with your pretty songs about glorious battles and brave, handsome knights. Tell me something girl," before you even realized, he had pushed you against the wall, "you saw my brother fight yesterday, he's a knight. Tell me how he fought."

You opened your mouth to answer, but before any sound could come out, he replied in your stead: "Bravely?" He was mocking you and you hadn't done anything to deserve it.

"As I said, all I wanted was to compliment you. And it wasn't a rehearsed courtesy, I meant what I said. And sure, your brother may be a Ser, but that doesn't make him a true knight. I know many knights and I know about the terrible things most of them have done. And indeed, I saw Gregor yesterday. I saw him trying to kill a man, and I saw you save that same man's life. If anyone acted like a true knight in all of the tourney's days, it was you. But I suppose that's just another one of my fake courtesies..."

Sandor's expression softened at that last remark and he didn't quite know how to respond. He was not at all used to hearing things like that being said to him, especially from a highborn Lannister Lady.

"And fine, you may think I'm delusional, but I know how the real world works. And judging from that scar, so do you."

You were angry and it made you speak way out of turn. When you realized the harshness of your words, you squeezed out from between Sandor and the wall to take your leave. you strode away angrily, leaving him standing there, baffled by the honesty and courage you had just displayed. He had never encountered a lady who dared to talk to him like that. Except for you, they were all afraid of him.

And he felt like he should be angry with you for saying all those things, but he wasn't. Because you were just telling the truth, like he always did himself.

It wasn't until five days later that you saw him again. There was a feast in the Great Hall, and he stood guard while the Lords and Ladies of the Keep got drunk to celebrate gods know whose name day. There was a lot of uneasy eye contact going on between you and Sandor, and you felt guilty about the way you had spoken to him after the tourney. Later that night most members of the royal family had disappeared from the Hall, and so had Sandor.

Many of the other guests had also left the feast, you were drunk and tired and decided to call it a night too. Despite all the wine, you still stood remarkably stable on your feet, so the way to your bedchamber should be no obstacle. As you finally reached the flight of stairs that lead to your room, you saw Sandor Clegane sitting on the bottom steps, accompanied by a wineskin. You walked over and sat down beside him in silence.