The Iron Throne (One Shots/Reader Inserts)

Sandor Clegane X Lannister!Reader

A/N: Sorry for spelling errors, its 3am and this has 8.5K words 😂 hope you enjoy 💕

"Argh!" Clegane growled. "The fuck you doing?!"

You gasped, heart pounding as you peeped through the slats of an old, broken cart.

"There's a price on your head," someone spoke, from your position, you couldn't see him.

Clegane winced as he touched his neck. Blood seeped through from between his fingers. "I guess thats what happens when you tell the King to fuck off," he grumbled.

You ducked away, out of sight. There was a bounty on him, but there was a higher bounty on you. The voices became indistinct as you scrambled away from your hiding place.

"We saw you with someone," the one who stabbed him spoke. Bald cunt, Clegane thought.

He shook his head, "the fuck are they then?"

He muttered something under his breath, wiping his neck again. It was very sore.

He had seen them coming, he knew he had to hide you, stash you away. In doing so, he cornered himself.

"Just a lone dog on the road," they sneered, drawing swords.

Fuck's sake, he murmered, drawing his own sword.

The leaves on the trees rustled, the cold, evening air drawing in.

"I'm claiming that bounty," the bald one growled as he swung his sword at Clegane, missing by about a foot. The one with brown hair did not move, you weren't sure if he was fully committed to this attack.

The Hound chuckled at his pathetic attempt at an attack, which enraged him, swinging again in a frenzy, Clegane stepped back each time, out of his reach.

He glanced around, why wasn't his partner backing him up? He had to do a double take, when he saw him crashed out, unconscious on the cold, damp grass.

Before he could turn back around, the hilt of a bastard sword clocked him right between the eyes. He fell so fast, you thought he was diving towards the ground.

Clegane looked you up and down, you were holding a thick, chunk of wood, which he assumed is what you hit the other soldier with. He was impressed, very resourceful, he didn't even see you do it.

"Should I hit him again?" You pointed to the bald one, groggily stirring "He's getting up."

The Hound nodded, "go on then."

You bashed him in the side of the head with your log, then tossed it aside, wiping your dirty hands on his cloak.

You were a highborn, through and through. You had never been out in the wild before, never got dirty, you weren't allowed to play with weapons or to go out, playing rough and tumble with your friends. Clegane was impressed with how well you were adapting, you were willing to get stuck in and help, although, you had your funny quirks, like not liking to get your hands too mucky, and most importantly, brushing your hair multiple times a day. It will get in a scraggly mess, you would tell him. He hadn't believed you, until he saw first hand what a scraggly mess your hair could get into. He never questioned it again after that.

You approached him, tearing the hem off your shirt. He pulled his hand away from his neck for you to have a look.

It was a good scrape, but you didn't think it was life threatening. You'd need some supplies, though.

You folded up a strip of fabric to press against it, a second strip you used to tie around his neck, to hold everything in place and apply pressure. "We must ride for a safe place, where I can look at it properly," you instructed, he bowed his head in compliance.