Sandor Clegane X Reader : The Other Lannister Daughter

Antici~~~~~~~~~

After a light supper and a good nights sleep, (Y/n) woke feeling well rested only to find that it was still quite dark out. Standing outside on her balcony, she waited impatiently for the sun to finally rise but it seemed only to creep even slower as if to mock the woman. Her belongings where packed and she had already adorned her armor, now there was nothing to do but wait. A sudden rapping upon her door drew her inside in an instant and she hastily pulled it open to find her father standing there, still dressed in his bedclothes. He held up a large wrapped bundle and all but dropped it into (Y/n)'s arms. " I know you don't care that today is your Nameday and I know you don't like presents but as your father I can not sit by and watch another year pass without giving you a proper present. It was made especially for you, so you have to except it." He turned and headed back down the hall towards his own chambers in a hurry, glad that so far his plan had gone smoothly. (Y/n) let out a low chuckle as she closed the door gently and crossed the short distance to slump down into her bedside chair and held the bundle aloft, feeling its weight. Straitening herself upright, she laid the bundle across her lap and began unravel the bonds that held the wrapping in place. As the fabric fell, a beautifully forged and detailed scabbard peeked out between the gaps; once she had unwrapped it entirely she unsheathed it, drawing a gasp from her lips as she realized the broad longsword had been forged of Valarian steel. She sat admiring the way the blade mirrored back the room, the way the gold lion headed pommel shone in the dying firelight. After a while, she pulled herself away from the mesmerizing gift and gathered her bags before heading downstairs to join her father at the head of the march.

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For two weeks strait, the Lannister troops marched, only stopping to make camp on nights when they all agreed they where to tired to go on. The morale of the troops was high but a feeling of restlessness had crept like a fog through the ranks, the journey seeming to drag on relentlessly. General (Y/n) was vigilant and dutiful when it came to her troops though and spent most of her time checking on rations and battle strategies, and taking over night watch so her men would be well rested. A raven had arrived earlier that morning from Kings Landing and it brought with it an update on Stannis's most recent troop count and current location; he and his armada where a days sail from the city with a crew of twenty thousand manning his two hundred ships, not including of course the thirty sellsails vessels that joined them. As of now Stannis had the upper hand, he outnumbered the royal fleet ten to one but with the thirty thousand Lannister men in their march and the fifteen thousand or more troops the Tyrells had marching south, this would be a slaughter. After finishing her morning rounds, quite content to have some alone time for a change, slipped into her pavilion. Stripping off her armor, she lay across in her big chair beside the fire; her neck cradled in the arm of the chair as she let her mind wander. The battle at hand would be over in minutes, their troop sizes alone guaranteed that but (Y/n) still found herself concerned. Scenario after scenario played through her mind on a loop, a voice almost screaming;
' What if your to late?'
'What if the cities already been sacked and its just a trap, set to lure you to your death.'
'He will be dead, long since slaughtered when you get there.'
(Y/n) tried to battle the voice away, over the last year the small voice of insecurity had grown louder, to the point where it almost drowned out her own voice. 'No' she thought sternly,
'The facts are all laid out plainly; they where less than half a days ride from the city, they clearly outnumbered the invaders and Sandor was stronger than anything they could throw at him' but why wouldn't the voice just listen? Why did her head feel like it was about to split in two and her chest feel like she had a boulder atop her?
A sudden noise, someone clearing their throat to make their presence known, startled
(y/n) causing her to jump. 'Just when I thought my chest couldn't hurt any worse' she thought as she rose from her seat, turning in the direction from whence the sound came. Her father was standing there, cheeks red and eyes glaring, he was clad in his armor and radiated a heat that (y/n) could feel from across the room. He entered and spoke at once, the fury in his voice dripping like venom, " The bastards caught a big gust and will be docking tonight, Tyrion is trying to buy us time but we need to hurry. I've just received word that Tyrell's troops are nearing the city from the north but they are no closer than we are. Gather your things, we ride at once!" (Y/n) shuttered as the voice inside laughed insatiably, her worst fears had been confirmed. Tywin left at once, his voice trailing behind as he ordered his men to prepare.
(Y/n)s hands trembled as she strapped her armor on, her fingers fumbled with the clasps of her pouldren. She paused for a moment to take a few deep breaths, before finishing the task. Grabbing her sword and helm, she rushed out of her tent and into the chaos that had become of the camp. Unhitching her horse from it's post, she mounted and quickly regained control of the troops. Within minutes, the march began with Lord Tywin and General (Y/n) in the lead, moving as swiftly as the footsoldiers could sprint.

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Tyrion stood atop the castles battlements, looking down upon Blackwater Bay, waiting with anticipation as the fleet of approving ships grew closer. Next to him stood his nephew: King Joffey, Tyrion's squire: Podrick and the Kings Guard: Sandor Clegane; Joffrey was currently shaking with fear and wishing he could be any where but where he stood. Tyrion turned, raising his hand as a signal to the archers, as the ships drew within range of his trap. A lone ship had been left in the harbor, filled to the brim with barrels of wildfire and as Tyrion lowered his hand, a dozen flaming arrows sunk deep into their target, quickly igniting the ship and her contents. A booming sound reverberated throughout the harbor, followed closely by a huge green flash and the ship exploded, causing wildfire to rain down on the nearby ships. Tyrion grinned, quite pleased his plan had worked but his moment of happiness was soon gone, as he noticed the remaining ships had begun docking farther down the harbor and the survivors where starting to regroup upon shore. He turned, looking up at Sandor,
" Hound, form a welcome party for any Baratheon troops that manages to touch soils ground." After a nod, Sandor headed down the stairs toward the courtyard under the Harbor Wall. Tyrion then turned to address his squire, " Pod, run to the kings gate and bring any men guarding it here now." Podrick replied with a quick, " yes,my lord" and a small bow before hurrying away. He stole a glance at his still petrified nephew before he returned to his post, watching as the battle began to unfold below.