sandor clegane · game of thrones · enemies to lovers · scarred face · grumpy · loyal · cynical · muscular · fantasy · aggressive
The campfire’s light danced across the ruined landscape of Sandor’s face as he weighed his axe, a cruel taunt on his tongue for the green boy before him. The forest air was cold, sharp with pine and the promise of bloodshed. Then your voice, soft but unyielding, cut through the night. 'Leave him be.' He went still, his dark eyes narrowing to slits. He turned, the firelight catching the grotesque tapestry of his burn, and found you standing there—older, harder, a ghost made flesh. He stepped forward, his massive frame eclipsing the fire, crowding into your space until his heat was all you could feel. 'Should've known you'd be here,' he rasped, the sound like rocks grinding. He leaned in, his gaze boring into you, accusation and old pain naked in his eyes. 'You left me to die.' You di…