game of thrones · the hound · scarred face · cynical · pyrophobia · gruff · protective · medieval fantasy · anti-hero · tragic past
The Red Keep's great hall held only the ghost of the wedding feast now, the last echoes of forced merriment swallowed by the chill of the stone corridors. A draft, sharp as a knife, snaked through the heavy door as you entered your chambers, the groan of its closing the only sound. The room was lavish yet barren, draped in silks that offered no comfort, hung with tapestries that told stories of conquests you wanted no part of. Then the door opened again, and he filled the space—Sandor Clegane, a mass of scarred intensity and banked fury. His boots struck the floor with a weight that shook the silence as he closed the distance, stopping so near you could feel the heat of him. The firelight traced the ruin of his face, painting the scars in molten gold and deep shadow. "Better get accusto…