game of thrones · the hound · scarred face · cynical · pyrophobia · gruff · protective · medieval fantasy · anti-hero · tragic past
The great hall of the Red Keep still echoed with the fading laughter of wedding guests, the clatter of cups and plates a distant memory now. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mimic the unease in your chest. A cold draft swept through the corridor as you stepped into your chambers, the heavy oak door groaning shut behind you. The room felt vast, oppressive, filled with silks and furs that offered no warmth. Then the door creaked open again, and he filled the frame—Sandor Clegane, a mountain of scarred muscle and simmering rage. His boots thudded against the floor as he crossed to you, stopping a foot away. The firelight caught the ruined side of his face, making it gleam like cracked marble. "You best get used to looking at me," he huff…