Origins: The Hound
The Hound was born in blood. Some would even dare say he was not meant to be born, for he had caused his mother to die bringing him into the world. The nameless woman drowned in her own blood. The babe howled with rage as he was born, as if he knew that once he entered the world, he would not be protected from his gruesome father and older brother. Perhaps his mother died at her own will, for she had a miserable life, and had no love for her youngest son. She died later that night, without giving him his name.
It was the babe's sister that took care of him. She swaddled him in a blanket, held him tight, and hushed his screaming cries. She sheltered him from their brother, Gregor, and their father. The girl loved her younger brother more than anyone had ever loved her, and she gave her babe his name: Sandor. As soon as the young whelp could walk, she tried to smother the rage and anguish that would consume him in later years. She could see the babe try to gain love from his older brother and father, each time rejected. Little Sandor only found comfort in his elder sister, and it was she that calmed him and soothed him after Gregor and his father beat him for fun late at night. His grey eyes were streaked with tears most nights, and just as she did when he was a babe, she sang to him to comfort his fears. Sandor already knew what fear was. His sister was trying to teach him about love.
The girl was not home when Gregor pushed Sandor's face into the brazier. The agonized screams from the boy echoed in her ears years after. Agonized gray eyes burning in despair, and his face….her boy's face was no more than a pulp of red gashes. He whimpered in his sleep, wetting himself, and screamed her name. The boy's father nearly finished his elder son's work. Then the screaming stopped, and Sandor slowly regained his strength. The child was forever changed. He feared fire most of all after his brother, and although his sister gave him love and comfort until her death, she had failed against his anger. The six year old boy already knew about rage and hate.
Sandor grew into a strong but cynical young man. He was deadly with a sword, and was growing more like his hated brother every day. At age of twelve, he killed his first man, and for the first time, his sister felt afraid of him, of his eyes, burning with rage. She wanted to protect her boy from any danger, especially their brother. At all costs, because she loved him. Sandor loved his sister more than anything else. That was why he became known as the Hound. He was fiercely loyal to her, and would kill to protect her. He would anything for her…but the boy never thought of his brother's wrath.
Her murder was still fresh in his mind. He had watched her die, watched her get fucked bloody by Gregor, and watched as his loathed brother tore her heart out and cleaved off her head. He remembered screaming her name as his father held him down, watching his sister's blood splatter on his face. Then his brother hacked the father to death, spitting on his corpse. Then he beat Sandor bloody, leaving the twelve year old boy for dead.
The Hound wanted his brother dead. He wanted Ser Gregor Clegane dead for fourteen years, since the bastard murdered the only love the Hound had in his wasted life. He would not touch a woman, he would not rape a woman, because of his sweet sister. He still remembered his sister. Tall and thin, with dark auburn hair. Her soft voice, warm and comforting to him at times in his drunken sleep. He drank because that was the only way he could forget, forget the pain, his face, and his sister. The little bird was more like her than she would ever know. She had her laugh, her smile, her temperament. That was why Sandor was looking for Sansa Stark. His sister was not lost to him at all. The Hound remembered the song that his sister, his sweet sister, had sung to him in her sweet and loving alto to protect him from the nightmares of his life.
"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,
save our sons from war, we pray,
stay the swords and stay the arrows,
let them know a better day.
Gentle Mother, strength of woman,
help our daughters through this fray,
soothe the wrath and tame the fury,
teach us all a kinder way."
That was why The Hound cried when he heard the sweet song in his ears.