He seemed to be the meanest man you'd ever met. And it intrigued you all the same.

Your father, a lord, had been appointed to the small council in King's Landing, you were brought along with him. And during your stay, your eyes had wandered to the Hound himself. You didn't know why, he always seemed so rude. So crass. So... unlike you.

The burns on his face alone should have scared you away. You should've set your sights on someone else, like Ser Jaime perhaps. But no. Sandor occupied a lot of your waking thoughts. And you knew it wasn't proper.

He wasn't exactly proper either. He didn't seem to look your way, or care that you were highborn.

But when he did look your way, very rarely you saw a gentleness in his eyes. And you wondered how you would even speak to him if he were ever away from King's Joffrey's side.