The riot had started so quickly. The Gold Cloaks raced to protect the queen mother and the king but the other nobles were lost in the mix. You had lost sight of Lord Tyrion in the chaos and your handmaids fled for their lives.

Now you were backed into a shaded alley, four ruffians laughing as they step closer, lecherous gazes of the men eyeing you. Before you knew it, a loud growl of rage was heard and in moments, all four men were butchered before your very eyes. The huge, scarred knight, the Hound, Sandor Clegane, panted heavily as the blood dripped from his brown beard. He watched you wearily with his brown eyes as he sheathed his sword. “You alright, songbird?” He asks gruffly, approaching you and placing a hand on your shoulder.