Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Three

Sandor Clegane X Reader - Shock Shock: Requested

A/N - This imagine was requested by user: Karin_Steffi. I ended up using the song 'Shock Shock' by Biffy Clyro for inspiration. I hope you all enjoy it.

The last few hours of your journey had been practically silent. Not that it was completely unusual for silence to fall between you. Sandor often got into his moods, and when he did, you had found that it was easier to just leave him to it. Other than a few grunts on his part, there had been no communication since you had left your make shift camp that morning, and now you were getting a little bored of it.

"Can we stop for the night?" you uttered, glancing over at him with your sweetest smile. He nodded, still incapable of stringing together a sentence for you. 

You pulled your horse to a stop, slipping down from its back as you led it to a tree where you could tie it up. God, you wanted to scream at him, but it would do neither of you any good. 

"I'm going to build a fire," you started again, watching as he tied his own horse up a few feet away. "And then I can cook that rabbit you caught this morning." Still nothing. You released a harsh sigh, finally drawing his attention over to you as you stared at him with a furrowed brow. "Are you ever going to talk to me again?"

Sandor looked a little lost for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn't find the words. And then he had shrugged, and it was as if you had seen red. 

"I am going to be your wife, Sandor. You can't just give me the silent treatment for the rest of our lives," you spat at him, shaking your head. "It's childish and pathetic and cruel," you continued, your face softening as you kept your gaze focused on him.

"What do you want me to say?"

If anything, that bit more than the silence, and you released another sigh, softer this time. "Anything. Literally anything that comes into your head. I just can't stand being right next to you and not hearing anything at all."

"Have I ever told you how I got my scars?" 

You shook your head slightly as you sat down, beginning to build yourself a small fire. "Only that you've had them since you were a child."

Sandor nodded, coming to sit down opposite you. "Well, when I was little I had this toy knight. It had been carved by some travelling salesman and my father had gotten one for me and one for my brother," he paused for a moment, glancing up at you as if he were gauging your reaction. You nodded, encouraging him to go on. "Gregor didn't really give a shit about the toys. He was too old for them; we both were. So it just sat there on the shelf, completely untouched. Well, one evening it just got too tempting for me and I took his little knight off of the shelf and started playing with both of them. Probably got to enjoy my game for all of five minutes and then Gregor came in." Sandor paused again, shifting on the spot as he cleared his throat. "He didn't like me touching his things and he just got so mad. Grabbed me and forced my head into the fireplace. I was lucky that the fire had gone out, I guess, but the coals burned straight through the skin."

"Sandor-"

"I was stuck on bed rest for weeks after that. Didn't even get to go outside until a few months had past." His fingers were touching his scars now, a little too harsh for your comfort, and you quickly shifted forward, taking his hand in yours. 

"Stop," you murmured, gripping tighter onto his fingers, linking them through yours. You remained silent for a moment, leaning forward to press your forehead into his shoulder. "Your brother is a monster."

Sandor released a snort of laughter. "Guess it runs in the family."

You pulled away quite suddenly, staring up at him in horror. "Don't say that; you're nothing like him."

"I kill people," he told you, attempting to draw you closer to him, only for you to pull away slightly.

"It isn't the same." You closed your eyes for a moment, attempting to calm yourself. "He is cruel. He doesn't feel guilt for the way he hurts people. I wouldn't be marrying you if you were anywhere close to becoming what he is."

Sandor was kissing you a moment later, knocking the air out of your lungs as he pulled you close to his chest. As he pulled away, his hand pulled out of yours, shifting to cup your cheek. "You're still too good for me."

"I'll work on being worse," you murmured, fixing your eyes on his as firmly as you could manage. 

He snorted at your words, pressing his forehead against yours. "You've got a lot of work to do."

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