Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Three

Sandor Clegane X Baratheon!Reader - Hear Me

A/N - This chapter is based on the song 'Hear Me' by Imagine Dragons. I hope you all enjoy it.

It had never been difficult to see that you were different to your siblings. Whether it was the colour of your hair or the way you behaved, there was nothing even remotely similar. For years, you had attempted to pretend that you didn't see it. You denied everything. Sure, your siblings all took after your mother in appearance, but you had gotten your father's genes. Of course, Joffrey was one of the most entitled boys to have ever lived, but Tommen and Myrcella shared your softer personality. It was normal for siblings to be different, and with that running through your mind you had put the thought out of your head. 

It wasn't until you had become an adult that you had begun to notice it again. Your father, ever the doting parent to you, had gotten to be a little more cruel with the other three. He would belittle them and call them mean names, and all whilst you could have gotten away with murder. You were the one that was worthy of his love, and you had clung to the attention like a greedy child.

But the longer you watched your siblings, and the older you became, the more sure you were that something wasn't right. It hadn't taken a lot of digging to find the rumours that surrounded your mother, and out of nowhere the realisation had hit you. Your mother had four children, but only one was a Baratheon. 

You had shrunken into yourself after that. Of course, you wanted to tell your father of your discovery, but it would put your entire family in danger, so you swallowed the pain and confusion, holding it deep down inside of you to limit the damage it could do. Your father would never know the truth. Your mother would never know that you knew her secret. Your siblings would never know that their uncle was their real father.

It was clear that your shift in behaviour had worried your father. At first, he had bothered you endlessly, attempting to make you talk to him, but when you had insisted you were fine, he had taken other precautions. He would allow you your freedom, but you would be under constant surveillance and you would never leave your chambers without your guard. That was new too. You had never needed your own guard before. You were always with your mother or father and had never needed one on one protection.

Sandor had seemed a little brutish at first, barely speaking a word unless he was ordering you to move faster, or change direction to avoid a crowd. But eventually he had softened, noting the pain inside of you. No one had ever seen it before, but you supposed you had never known someone who had known real pain of their own. Sandor had lived through enough trauma to fill three lifetimes, and had become quite well versed in recognising other people's trauma too.

He had first broken out of his silence when he had entered your chambers one morning, finding you sitting in your robe, your hair messy and your eyes red. You had never allowed anyone other than your ladies maid to see you in such away before, but you were so worn down that you had barely noted his entrance. 

"Morning, Princess," Sandor had started, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before as he moved to stand in front of you. He was frowning as you glanced up at him, but he quickly forced it away, replacing it with an attempt at a smile. "What are your plans for the day?"

You remained silent, shrugging slightly as you drew your leg up under yourself, pulling your gaze away from him. "I'm tired," you uttered, and he nodded.

"Your father asked how you were doing," he started again, shifting to sit on the table in front of you, forcing you to look at him again. "What do I tell him?"

For a moment, you just stared, unable to come up with the right thing to say. "That he has nothing to worry about," you told him, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "I'm fine."

Sandor released a deep sigh. "Pardon my saying so, Princess, but you don't look fine."

"No?" you uttered, glancing down at your hands.

"No."

You released a soft snort, shaking your head. "Then do tell me, how do I look?" 

Sandor paused, his mouth opening and closing as he continued to watch you. "Scared." 

A small, forced smile found it's way onto your lips as you looked up at him. "What is there to be scared of?" you asked him, your voice returning to it's usual softness. "I have you here, no one could ever dream of harming me."

"Perhaps scared isn't the right word then," he murmured. For a split second, he could swear he saw your smile disappear, replaced by furrowed brows and a slightly frown, but before he could fully register it, it had returned to normal. "You're worried about something," he added. "And the fact that you won't tell your father makes me think it has something to do with him."

Your eyes slipped closed for a moment, and Sandor released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Wow," you uttered, a short breathy laugh filtering through your lips. 

"It'll be a lot easier if you tell someone," he started, shifting slightly on his perch as you finally looked at him properly, your brows furrowed as you considered his suggestion. "It won't feel so suffocating if you aren't in it alone." You nodded slightly, taking a deep breath. "It doesn't have to be-"

"I'm my father's only true born child." The words knocked the air out of the room, leaving you both completely silent. You stared at him, waiting for some sort of reaction. 

Sandor's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he gave a short nod. "I can see why you were so worried," he told you, pulling a small snort of laughter out of you. "How sure are you?"

"Almost certain," you started, shaking your head as you released a shaking breath. "I think my mother and my uncle Jaime-"

"You don't have to explain it to me," he interrupted as gently as he could manage, reaching out and patting your knee slightly. "I understand."

You nodded. "I don't think my father knows."

"There wouldn't be a Lannister left in King's Landing if he did," he uttered. "It's going to be okay," he added softly.

He was caught off guard when you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his middle and almost knocking him to the ground from his awkward seated position. If it weren't for the bite of his armour, it would have been a nice hug. His arms moved to hold you as if on instinct, pulling you closer to him for just a moment, before releasing slightly. 

"Thank you," you murmured, forehead pressed against the cold metal of his chest plate. 

Sandor released a soft sigh, a sound that seemed so out of place coming from him. "We'll figure it out," he told you, feeling your grip on him tighten slightly.

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