On the subject of all things violent, Sandor was an expert.

On the subject of preparing for fatherhood, he was as green as summer grass.

It was a mistake on both your parts. You weren't meant to bed each other, it went against every social standard imaginable. A lady and the Hound.

Falling pregnant with a bastard, his bastard, only made it worse.

Your family was absolutely furious, in a world where virtue meant everything. And for the sake of keeping up appearances (and the legitimacy of the child), you found yourself forcibly married to the brutish man himself.

Obviously you cared for him, you had your dalliancies, sneaking around in the quiet moments of the night. And sometimes in the day. It wasn't like the feeling of attraction wasn't mutual.

But marriage and parenthood?

Gods, neither of you knew what you were doing.

As the months went by it didn't help that Sandor was a big man. A big man clearly meant big babes. Your back would constantly ache, the weight of it all on your organs and ribs.

He would constantly be away, training, guarding, doing what he was made to do. The truth is, in part he was avoiding you. The prospect of fatherhood was frightening, especially to a man like him. Too broken, too violent.

A bad dog shouldn't have pups.

Though one night, he could tell you were struggling.

In the quiet dark of the room, you stood rubbing your stomach. The ache in your back persisted, you couldn't rest.

Without a word, he slipped behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and lifting the full weight of your belly. Relief washed over you like a wave.

Your head leaned back against him. Eyes shut and taking in the small moment of peace.

But then he spoke, quieter than you'd ever heard from him.

"If the babe turns out to be a boy... don't let him grow to be like me. Or my brother, a violent beast." He murmured with a growl. "Let them be soft; like you."

His nose buried against the top of your head, inhaling deeply. "I like that you're soft." He whispered, his hands still splayed on your belly. The sheer size of them made them the perfect cradle for your growing form.

The weight of the world was upon you both. This was his way of showing that he cared.

Hounds could always be tamed, after all.