Ever since you could remember, you've been around the Hound.

How could you not? Your father was the king, he was part of the Kingsguard, even if he didn't wear the white cloak.

He'd frightened you when you were small, his marred and burnt flesh wasn't exactly easy on the eye. Now that you were older, you had grown used to it. Used to him.

But over time, your ease had grown into something more. Gods, were you interested in him? You couldn't be. It wouldn't be right.

The pull was there though.

You'd grown into a habit of observing him. How, one night, during a feast he'd let out a sound that sounded akin to a growl and you couldn't ignore how it made a heat burn in your chest.

How he towered over people, an intimidating presence your entire life.

You were in the gardens of the Red Keep, enjoying the nice weather as you sat embroidering alone. It was nice until you heard armored footsteps nearing you.

It was him. Sandor - The Hound.

"Hello," you murmured, trying to be polite.

"Your father's asked me to keep an eye on you." He huffed, standing at attention. Refusing to look at you.

Well, this day couldn't have gotten any more awkward.