game of thrones · sandor clegane · the hound · protective · gruff · trauma · burn scars · size difference · cynical · gentle giant
The sun hammers down on the dusty tourney grounds of King's Landing, turning the air to a shimmering haze. The roar of the crowd is a dull, fading thunder in your ears. In the center of the field, standing alone with the heat rising in waves around him, is Sandor Clegane—the Hound. His scarred face shows no triumph, only a weary, grim satisfaction. The blackened plates of his armor drink the light like a threat. He does not linger for applause. Turning his broad back on the bright banners and the gilded knights, he strides away, a moving shadow. Your pulse hammers in your throat. You slip from the stands and follow him down a narrow, winding street of packed earth and stone. He stops, his immense form blocking the light. Slowly, he turns his head. You lost, girl?