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cruciology · 4 years

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His and Hers

Requested by Anon: “Sandor x Pregnant! Reader”

You never enjoyed the death matches. You weren’t a fan of blood and gore, but you especially hated the “trials by combat”. You weren’t sure how exactly slicing the head off of another man proved your innocence. You sat next to your older half sister, the reigning Queen Regent, right in the front row. She was in much better spirits since her husband had died and her son crowned King. She had never been cruel to you, her attention was usually focused on Tyrion, but she had now been almost kind to you in the time since becoming widowed.

“Lady Lannister,” You heard from your side. You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face when you looked up at the large man who had appeared at your side. His place was technically by the King, but no one would question if he stood by the Queen’s sister. He had been charged with guarding your chambers more than a few times. That’s when you had gotten to know him. But it wasn’t until last night that you had first kissed him. You smiled a bit wider remembering it.

“Nice to see you, Hound,” You said. You saw his mouth twitch, but he kept his mask of stoicism. You couldn’t help but think what would have happened last night had you not been interrupted by your brother knocking on your door. You wondered if he would have taken you right there in your chambers. You were hoping he would. He had seemed just as disappointed as you were when he had to pull away and stand in the corner of your room, pretending he hadn’t been on top of you in your bed just moments before when Jamie entered the room. Jamie didn’t question why the Hound was there, he assumed he was doing his job and protecting you. You hoped he would be assigned to guard your room again tonight. Maybe then he would finish what you started last night.

If it were your choice, you would grab his hand and take him back to the castle. You were sure he would rather be there too, knowing how he felt about his brother. He had told you how much he hated seeing the Mountain and he was once again the champion for the King in today’s trial against a Dornish man who was accused of stealing from the Red Keep.

The usual cheers came for the Mountain as he entered the arena. Any hint of a smile left the Hound’s face immediately. Boos rang out over the crowd as the Dornish man was pushed into the center. He was a big man, not as tall as the Mountain but at least as wide. Maybe he would have a shot. The Mountain did his usual rounds, getting cheers louder for him. The Dornish man took the opportunity to lunge towards the Mountain, toppling him over. The Dornish man held his own for just a moment, but the Mountain flipped them over, sitting his whole weight on the man’s chest. He squeezed the man’s head with both hands. You gasped, grabbing onto the Hound’s arm in surprise as the Mountain ripped the man’s head off of his body, the spine coming with it as blood poured onto the ground. You felt sick to your stomach. The whole thing lasted less than a minute. At least it was over.

You realized your hand was still on the Hound’s arm and you pulled away, placing your hands in your lap.

“Well, that was quick,” Cersei said with that polite smile of hers. “The Gods must not have wanted their time wasted.”

“Or the Mountain is just a beast,” You said. Your sister shot you a look.

The King stood up, clapping excitedly with his wicked grin on his face, his betrothed looking as horrified as you felt next to him in her chair. “Gregor Clegane, a good show as always. How many battles have you championed for my family? Over a hundred I expect.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” The Mountain confirmed.

“It is high time you were properly rewarded,” The King said graciously. You heard an annoyed laugh from the Hound next to you. “You are a man I would be disappointed to see be the last of his line. You may have your pick of a wife, I’ll seek out the most beautiful women in King’s Landing for you.”

You felt sick to your stomach. Of course, Joffrey’s idea of fun was torturing some helpless woman by wedding her to the most cruel and violent man in the country. It wasn’t enough that he had that poor Stark girl torment. You had never liked your nephew. You were closer in age to him than to his mother, he had no respect for you.

“Any woman?” The Mountain asked.

“Be sure to pick one with some lands and a good name,” King Joffrey smirked. “Get your money’s worth, Clegane.” The Mountain’s face split into a grin as horrible as Joffrey’s. You realized he was looking right at you.

“That one,” He said, pointing a blood stained finger at you. You saw the Hound clutch the hilt of his sword beside you.

King Joffrey clapped again gleefully as you looked to your sister. Even her eyes were wide in fear for you, and she didn’t even like you all that much. “My son,” She said, her tone warning, but Joffrey ignored her as he came over to you, pulling you out of your seat and towards the arena.

“My dear aunt, a wonderful choice,” He said as he nearly pulled your arm out of its socket dragging you into the arena. You could smell the death that clung to the air as the hem of your dress dragged in the blood. Joffrey shoved you into the Mountain and the beast swung you up into his arms, holding you like a prize. You stared back helplessly at the Hound as the crowd cheered.

His bandaged knuckles throbbed as he took a swig from his wineskin. The Hound sat on a bottom step, the noise from the feast still audible. He had to resist throwing a punch into the stone wall of the corridor. His bed chambers were still a wreck, his table in several pieces. The maids were too terrified of him to try and enter. If the Hound thought that he was angry the day after the betrothal, when he had beaten his own hands bloody on his walls, it was nothing compared to how he felt after watching you stand before the everyone in the sept, draped in the cloak of his house, declaring that you were now his brother’s property.

He had barely seen you before the wedding and part of him felt like that was the Queen’s doing. He was sure that she knew how he felt about you. He thought that he had hidden it well, trying not to let his eyes linger on you for too long. Maybe he was always too ready to take guard duty by your chambers, or too pleased when she ordered him to walk you through the city when you asked to venture off.

The Hound had wanted to kiss you for some time now. He had been surprised when you had done it that night, just a week ago. Gods, it felt so much longer. If he could, he would go back to that night and take you away. Or at least tell the Kingslayer to fuck off.

Almost as if summoned by his thoughts of you, you turned the corner to the corridor he sat in. You spotted him, your face breaking into a soft smile as you walked towards him.

“I was wondering where you had wandered off to,” You said, standing above him where he sat on the step. You weren’t used to looking down at him. “Plenty of ale in the dining hall.”

“No offense, milady,” The Hound said, still not looking at you. “But I’d rather get my balls ripped off by a direwolf.”

“You think it’s fun for me?” You said, anger rising in your chest. You didn’t know why he was upset at you. You didn’t want to be married to Gregor Clegane. You had no say in the goings on of your life. Your father had tried to sway the King, but Joffrey was changing his mind. You suspected Tywin hadn’t tried all that hard anyways.

“Didn’t say it was,” The Hound said, taking another sip. “He’s going to beat you bloody.”

“You’re being a dick,” You said, your hands on your hips. He gave a humorless laugh. “You’re acting like you don’t even care. You always act like you don’t care.”

“You think I don’t care?” The Hound said, rising up to his full height, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. You knew he would never hurt you. He could never hurt you. “You think I don’t want to kill my brother?”

“You always want to kill your brother, Sandor, that’s nothing new.” Any time you used his name, his real name, his jaw tensed. No one called him anything other than “hound” or “dog”.

“He will hurt you and that little cunt Joffrey thinks it’s a game, a joke.” The Hound grabbed your arms with his large hands, startling you. “He doesn’t deserve to call you his wife.”

“I don’t want to be his wife,” You said, reaching up to touch the burned flesh of his face and he let you.

“You don’t want to be mine either,” He said firmly, grabbing your wrist.

“Why not?”

“You need a good man,” He said. “And there aren’t any here.”

You stood on your toes, lifting yourself just enough to kiss him. He stooped to pick you up, his arms wrapped around your waist. He carried you into the next corridor. You could still hear your wedding feast as you kissed your groom’s brother. He pressed you into the rough brick wall and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your wedding gown racked up to your thighs.

“I may be his wife,” You said breathlessly as he kissed your neck. “But I’m yours. From this day until the end of my days.” You said these words earlier in the sept but now you felt the meaning of them as the Hound’s lips stilled on your neck.

“Aye,” He said finally, kissing your lips. “You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine.”

“And I’m yours. Til the end of my days and all that shit.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing him as fiercely as you could. You didn’t care that someone could easily turn the corner and find you in a very compromising position with the king’s bodyguard.

“I need you,” You whispered, your teeth raking his ear lobe. He groaned his hands sliding further up your legs to grab your ass.

“Here?”

“Here.”

His hand slid in between your legs, feeling the pooling wetness there. “You’re fucking dripping, milady,” He said, smugness edging his tone. He liked that he had that effect on you.

“Sandor,” You begged, hitting his shoulder with your fist lightly. “We don’t-,” He cut you off, slipping two large fingers until you and making you gasp. He watched your face, a smirk playing at his lips as he rubbed you from the inside out. You bit your lip to keep from crying out when his thumb found your clit. He kissed you roughly, rubbing faster and faster until you moaned into his mouth as you came.

He wasted no time in undoing his pants, just enough to shove his hard cock into you full hilt. You couldn’t help the near scream you let out as he filled you, your nails grabbing at his chainmail armor. He clapped his hand over your mouth as he thrust into you.

“Keep quiet,” He warned with a grunt. The brick scraped at the skin on your back that your gown didn’t cover but even that felt good. You liked that you would be able to feel him even later.

His fingers felt like fire across your thighs as he gripped you tightly, his thrusts becoming wilder as he got closer. You wished that you could have your wedding night with him, in a large bed where you could curl into him afterwards, but this sloppy and quick encounter would be enough. For now.

He moved to hold you with both hands, kissing you hard. “Fuck, you feel so good,” He grunted.

“Finish inside me,” You said, making him groan. You were trying to remember every inch of him, from the way he stretched you to the way his beard scraped at your face. “I want to feel it, Sandor.”

You felt a shudder run through him as he released into you, holding you tight to make sure you didn’t fall to the ground. He rested his head in the crook of your neck for a brief moment.

He finally set you back down on your feet, letting your gown fall back into place. You could feel the stickiness creep down your thighs and it almost made you want to go again, but you knew you didn’t have time.

The Hound bent to kiss you again, his hand cupping your face. He knew what would happen later that night and he didn’t want to think of it. He wanted to just keep thinking of how good you felt around him, saying his name in that breathy moan of yours.

“Lady Clegane,” You heard from the main corridor. You gave the Hound’s hand a gentle squeeze as you saw the look on his face. You were a Clegane now, taken under the family’s cloak. It just stung more than he ever thought it could.

You walked out, the Hound shortly behind you, finding Podrick looking around the corridor. He gave the Hound a frightened look before looking back at you. “Sorry, milady, Lord Tyrion asked me to find you.”

“Yes, of course, thank you,” You said. With another side eyed glance at the Hound, Podrick turned back and left for the dining hall.

You felt the Hound’s rough hand on your shoulder, fixing the back of your gown that had gotten mussed during your encounter. You looked back at him, offering him a gentle smile, but he avoided your eyes.

“Better get back, Lady Clegane.”

He couldn’t stay away from you. He tried. Gods know he tried. He hated thinking about you sharing his brother’s bed, knowing exactly what Gregor would do to you. What was worse was knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t until nearly a fortnight after the wedding that he finally swallowed his pride and sought you out, going to the chambers you now shared with the Mountain when he knew that the Mountain would be off somewhere, killing someone in the name of the Lannisters.

You had been so happy to see the Hound that you nearly forgot how miserable you had been since your wedding. You didn’t even speak, you just pounced on him. The arrangement wasn’t ideal, but at least you got the Hound, even if it was just stolen moments that you could sneak away. Sometimes you even got lucky, when Gregor had to go off on a task set forth by King Joffrey, you were able to spend the night with the Hound, wrapped in his arms, in his bed, sleepy and sated after he had fucked you until you screamed his name, forgetting that he wasn’t the Clegane you had married. Your husband had his whores, you had his brother.

“If we left right now,” You had said, on one of these nights, the Hound’s hand tracing circles on your back lazily as you laid your head on his broad, hairy chest. “We could make it at least to Stokeworth before anyone even realized we were gone.”

“Is that what you want?” The Hound asked, his eyes already closed. He always fell asleep almost immediately after he finished.

The question had thrown you. Of course it was what you wanted. You had fantasized about it every moment since you took your vows. Except it would come at a price. Yes, here, you had to be married to that awful beast of a man, but you if you ran away, you would never see your family again. Even if your sister was standoffish and her first born a spoiled shit, you still loved your brothers, and your niece and nephew. You hated to think what would happen to sweet Mrycella and Tommen if left alone here. They were good children, you didn’t want to see them grow into the same sort as their elder brother. Not to mention, you would spend the rest of your lives with a bounty on your head, living in fear of being caught.

“I want to be on top this time,” You had said instead, rolling over onto the Hound.

“Again?” He had chuckled under you, squeezing your hips. He had grunted when you slid his quickly hardening cock back into you. It was a good enough distraction, it kept you from having to burst your bubble.

Until now.

You were good at keeping the peace. It was what your father said you were best at, in fact. But even you couldn’t calm Gregor Clegane when he was in a rage. Over something stupid, as well. A lost bet. The Maester said you were lucky he hadn’t broken any bones when he had flung you across the room. Just bruised and a bit bloody, but after you were bandaged up, you were free to go back to your chambers. You were safe, as well, as Gregor had been called away by the King, yet again, sent to Harrenhal. But it wasn’t it the bruises or wounds or even your husband that weighed on you. It was the news that the Maester had for you.

You walked in the exact opposite direction of your chambers, towards the Red Keep where you knew the Hound would be standing guard outside the King’s door. Normally, you were much more discreet, never daring to visit him when you knew your nephew could see, but you needed to see him and it needed to be now.

You turned the corner, feeling the weight on your chest lightening just slightly when you saw him. He had heard you coming, his hand on his sword just in case you had been a threat, but when he saw it was you, his hand dropped. When he saw the bandages, he stepped away from his post.

“What in the hells happened?” He asked, his hand on your cheek. You placed your hand over his, looking up at him. You didn’t even need to answer for his jaw to tense. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking-,”

“Sandor,” You said softly. “We need to leave, tonight.”

The Hound stared at you, studying your face to try to tell if you were serious. “You want to leave?”

“We need to leave,” You corrected. You kept your voice low, pulling him away from the door. “Gregor won’t be back for a few days, if we leave right when your watch ends-,”

“What happened?” The Hound asked.

You took a deep breath. You still hadn’t quite processed what the Maester had told you just moments before, it didn’t feel real. But you needed to say it and say it now, otherwise he would overhear when the Maester no doubt told Cersei and you couldn’t think of a worse way for him to find out. “I’m pregnant,” You said, your hands placed on your still flat stomach. You don’t think you had ever seen such genuine fear on his face. “Sandor?” You asked.

“And you don’t know if…,” He trailed off. You didn’t need to hear the rest of his question to know what it was. It had been your first thought as well.

“There’s no way to know, not for sure,” You said. “But if you come with me, if you leave with me tonight, it doesn’t matter, not to me. You’re mine, remember? And I’m yours. I love you, with my whole heart I do, but I need to leave tonight. I’ll go with or without you, but please, don’t make me go without you.” You could feel yourself rambling, the tears starting to fall down your cheeks. He stared at you, dumbfounded. You showed him countless times how much you cared for him, but this was the first time he heard it, heard those words, I love you. You wondered if he had ever heard those words before in his life.

“I’ll leave with you,” He said finally. You pulled him down, kissing his lips with as much force as you could. He lifted you off your feet, holding you close. “You’re mine, it’s mine.”

You stretched your arms high above you, feeling your sore back crack. The morning sun beamed in from the small window of the cottage. You laughed slightly as you looked at the empty side of the bed next to you. You struggled to your feet, wrapping your dressing gown around yourself. You knew exactly where to find the Hound.

You could already hear the swing of the hammer before you walked outside. It was such a common sound now a days, it hadn’t even woken you.

“Sandor,” You said with a laugh. “It was fine yesterday. It was fine the day before. And the day before that. If you keep fucking with it, it’ll just be a pile of kindling by the time the baby gets here.”

The Hound didn’t even look up from the excellently built crib as he kneeled in front of it, examining it for imperfections that weren’t there but he was convinced he could find. “What do you know about crib building?”

“What do you?”

“Exactly,” He grumbled.

You walked over to him and patted his head as he stared at the crib. He sighed, plopping down onto the grass in front of it. You lowered yourself into his lap, with some difficulty. He placed his hand on your large stomach absently as he looked at his creation. Any time you were near him, it was like his hand was drawn to the child inside of you. He even slept with his arm tightly around you.

“What if it breaks when she’s in there?” He asked.

“It’s not going to break,” You said. “And I still think he’s a boy.”

“And you’re wrong.”

“I’m the one carrying the damned thing,” You laughed.

“So? Doesn’t mean shit,” He said.

“You just don’t like my name.”

“James is a cunt name, no, I don’t like it,” The Hound said. “I’ve killed men named James, I’m not naming my son James.”

“So you decided that means we’re having a daughter then?”

“No, I think we’re having a daughter because we’re having a fucking daughter,” The Hound said. He finally looked away from the crib, looking back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he saw you smiling at him. “Hope to whatever stupid God is listening she gets your looks, though.”

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