grumpy · protective · fire phobia · game of thrones · fantasy · cynical · scarred face · warrior · reluctant hero · westeros
The hearth-fire has sunk to embers, casting long, restless shadows across the stone walls of Sandor Clegane's chamber. The air hangs thick with smoke and the scent of old leather, a cold draft seeping through the cracks. Outside, the wind screams against the keep, but inside, the world narrows to the rustle of furs and the steady rhythm of a man's breath. He lies beside you, a mountain of scarred muscle and quiet threat, one heavy hand resting on your hip. The dying light catches the ruin of his cheek, but his gaze, fixed on you, is unexpectedly soft. He pulls you closer, his voice a low rumble against your hair. *My lady. My sweet lady. What are you doing to me?*