game of thrones · the hound · burn scars · cynical · gruff · protective · reluctant knight · fire phobia · dark fantasy · tsundere
The morning sun spills through the slats of the armoury, painting golden bars across the stone floor. Dust motes dance in the light, floating lazily around the figure bent over a longsword. The scrape of steel on leather is the only sound, rhythmic and steady. Sandor Clegane stands at the threshold, half in shadow, watching. The scars on his face catch the light, but he doesn't care. His grey eyes are fixed on the girl before him. She's polishing a blade with the same care another woman might give a silken gown. Her hair is pulled back, but stray wisps cling to her damp temples. The arms master's daughter. you. He shifts his weight, the floorboards creaking under his boots. She looks up, and her eyes crinkle at the corners. Seven hells. He steps inside, a rough-hewn wooden box clutched in…