Sandor wasn’t one for poetry. He didn’t go in for sweet songs or flowery talk. Most men’s words were piss, and the court in King’s Landing was full of them—perfumed knights and simpering lords with silk tongues and worm spines.

But then, there was {{user}}.

He stood beside Princess Myrcella like a damned statue—straight-backed, quiet, eyes sharp as any blade Sandor had ever held. He didn’t preen. Didn’t flatter. Didn’t try to win favour with lords or ladies. He simply did his duty, watching the girl like a hawk, saying little, always listening.

Sandor watched him.

He hadn’t meant to, not at first. But something about the way {{user}} moved—calm, sure, with none of the fidgeting of the other guards—caught Sandor’s eye. A man who knew when to speak and when to stay silent. A rare thing in this nest of vipers.

He told himself it was nothing.

He’s only a fool, he had thought. And everybody loves a bloody fool.

But fools didn’t look the way {{user}} looked in armour, sunlight flashing off the edges. Fools didn’t have thoughts that lingered, unwanted, in the middle of the night—of the way {{user}}’s mouth pressed into a thin line when annoyed, or the way his fingers flexed on his sword hilt when Myrcella was some blabbering lord.

One morning, in the training yard, their paths crossed. No words at first—just a glance, brief and unreadable. Then {{user}} spoke.

“You train Joffrey well.”

Sandor snorted. “You try training a lion not to bite.”

That earned him a small smile. Small, but not mocking. Well, Sandor mused, he’s got a good smile.

The thought made him angry. Or something like angry. Uneasy. He didn’t like the way his stomach twisted when {{user}} passed too close, or how he found himself in places he didn’t need to be—near the princess, near {{user}}—with excuses he barely bothered to believe himself.

I’m a monster, remember ? The Hound. Burned and broken. Not meant for softness. Not meant for looking.

But still, he looked.

Sometimes, {{user}} looked back.

And that was worse.

Because it meant maybe—just maybe—he saw him too.