A/N: I don't own anything Game of Thrones by the way. That being said, be forewarned that this is has a violent, sexed (mentions of rape and possible rape), profanity filled story- because that's who Sandor Clegane is- so if you hate any or all of these elements this is not the story for you. It is a story for entertaining so please be entertained. Any reviews is relished like the best relish you've ever had on top of a hotdog so please relish me with reviews. I am going to grab a quick bite now.

A Flower, a Box, a Pastry

Chapter One: The Flower

Take this bloody armor off, servant." The hound twirled around in the tent looking for wine. Finding it he plopped in a chair and drank the flagon. He tossed the cup to the ground exhausted. Behind him he could hear the fickle crowd chant his name. It disgusted him, embarrassed him. He had saved a knight from being cut down by his brother not because he cared for the stupid ass…but because he didn't want to give The Mountain another bloody victory. Not in the court of his king.

The only one who wasn't yelling it seemed was the servant girl that had been assigned for his armor. Her job was to put on the armor and take it off also take care of it. She was young and shapely he noticed. He didn't know if she was not looking him in the eye because his face shocked her or if she knew her duty. Good servants never do look you in the eye. She was a Lannister's servant in that sense…they were all brought up that way. The Hound threw his arms out. Immediately the young woman got down on her knees and started to unbuckle the arm shaft.
"Did you win m'lord?!" She whispered excitedly. He closed his eyes.
"I'm alive. Obviously." He curtly replied annoyed.
"The crowds are so loud, but I am ordered to not go out to see. You must have been glorious." She took no notice of his sullen demeanor.
He said nothing as he scanned the tent. A small box sat on a small table to his left. It had been brightly decorated with a large pink flower and a string of violet grapes.

"The knights always fight so gallantly. They have so much life in them…so handsome too." She grinned as her vigor had taken over her cheeks. He wondered if she could possibly think she was complimenting him.
"What is that box?" He demanded as she worked on his other arm carefully unhinging the small buckles.
"Oh-it's-it's just a small gift..." She started and he looked down to see her shift slightly embarrassed. "I work in the kitchens..." She began to explain as she wiped down his chest plate soaked in bloody victory.
"Yes?" He growled impatiently.
"It's a gift for you-because you won." She worked silently and he saw her cheeks redden.
"Give it to me then. I'm the victor am I not?!" He barked. Women.
"Yes m'lord." She quickly got off her knees and grabbed the little box. She handed it in his left hand gently and nervously laughed.
He pulled the grapes off and ate a couple. The flower he threw over his shoulder. A meaningless decoration.
"Did you get your good luck kiss m'lord?" She asked going back to his armor quickly as though she had just done some shameful thing.
"An asinine tradition. Girls do not kiss a killer like me." Another reason he hated to be ordered into these tourneys. He learned long ago to disregard traditions. He wouldn't attempt to ask a woman for a kiss any more than he would agree to it himself.
"It's bad luck to win without a kiss!" She sounded startled. Immediately she lifted herself from beneath his waist and his lips met hers gently. He nearly crushed the little box in shock as he drank in the situation.
Her mouth felt soft like flowers petals and her person smelled like sweet grass. His right hand grabbed her waist on her side as he gently pulled her away from him.
"Do not...do that again. If you wish to live." His voice was even and this was the only time she had looked him in the eyes. They widened with fear as she began to shake.
"I'm-I'm so s-sorry-" she closed her eyes breaking the contact between her and his rage. "I only meant-please don't report me-"
"Know your place, servant." He warned in a low blood curdling tone. She nodded quickly as her breath quickened. He could almost hear her heart beat as she leaned over his shoulder to unhinge the back brace.
He rubbed the box in his hand and opened it. Four little pastries were inside and he put one in his mouth. Sweet flavors engulfed his senses, a hint of something spicy he didn't recognize. The tent was eerily silent, only with her breathing and his chewing.
"This pastry is enjoyable." He attempted to mend the silence.
"Oh-uh-thank you." He could tell her presence had changed towards him. She now feared him like the others and a part of him felt upset although he suppressed it. You're a Clegane and you don't get upset about women's foolish outbursts.
"You think that little presents and kisses and big smiles will get a knight to notice you, little flower?" He barked sternly then laughed slightly at her efforts.
"I-I don't know m'lord." She bit her lip containing her upset.
"They won't. It doesn't matter how pretty you make yourself, how many delicious pastries, no matter how good you smell or how sweet your kisses taste; you are a servant and dead to the affection of a knight. Just another foolish stupid girl, who believes every damn song and story about love…and if he does notice you it's for rape."
She got up quickly and turned around so her back was to him. He peered around and could tell that she was crying a little. "Stupid girl. Seven hells." He muttered under his breath taking another pastry.
"Do you wish me to leave m'lord?" She muffled. He studied her as she rubbed her arm.
"Go." He said simply crumbs coming out of his mouth.
She turned around and grinned widely even though her face was wet. She curtsied quickly and breathed "Thank you." His eyes followed her out of the room. He shoved the last pastry in his mouth.

Sandor walked into the tent to see if his armor had been completely cleaned. He hated to admit it but the Lannisters knew how to treat a knight. Not that he ever would consider himself one. The Clegane armor shown and was brightly polished, something that wasn't washed in a long time. He could see new scales woven in glittering in the light just waiting to be soaked in the blood of sport. Last scores tourney had given the Lannisters court hunger to feed upon the brotherly rivalry he shared with Gregor. As much as he knew that they pretended to care for his safety and his brother's, he wanted to believe that house Lannister thought of his family less like fools for the crowds enjoyment and more respected. Deep down he knew the Lannisters knew better than anyone that the Clegane's were not noble born and they earned their titles. Somehow, that seemed like a worse crime. Bitter about the news of him joining another tourney, the fight had only been ordered by that bitch Joffrey purely out of hope that he would be more popular with the court he was sure.

He sat in the chair and closed his eyes thinking about better things. His mind transfixed on the kiss he had with the servant. He didn't mind it, he decided. He was only angry with her because she was low born and he was angry with all women in general. They never looked at him in a sexual way unless he paid them for it. Even the best whore he had gotten avoided his scars and winced at the attempt of making love looking him in the eye. Strangely, this low-born was more strongly concerned with his luck than his appearance. He laughed out loud at the absurdity. She obviously didn't know who he was, what he did, or what he could do to her.
His eyes opened to hear her walk in. She froze and he saw she had another little box like the one before, fully adorned but this time with a white flower. He saw her turn sharply on her heel to exit the tent.
"Is that box for me, little flower?" He laughed mocking her. She had her back to him as she lowered the little box in a desperate attempt to conceal it.
"Kiss any gallant knights good luck on your way over? I'm sure they'll tell you the best place to suck on." He laughed again cruelly as he observed her thinking better of leaving now she had been caught. She put the box on the table and quickly made her way to the armor grabbing the chest plate.
He stood up, feeling the wine go to his head as she pushed it against his front. He bent over to smell her hair and found the sweet smell of the field overcome him. She hinged the chest plate from the front not noticing or pretending not to.
"If another man wins will you give him that box?" He nodded. "Let him get fat off those tiny spice pastries?"
"If it pleases him." She replied nervously hoping the answer was acceptable. She was holding back her excitement, her vigor that he had seen at their previous meeting. Apparently his words hadn't affected her enough to stop impressing her precious knights.
"It would please him." He scoffed putting out his arm. "They adore the attention. The affection. Those pretty-boy sods you desire- they would soon enough ruin you than protect you. They hide under the kings dress skirts and the skirts of whores pretending they're untouchable. You'll see one day, they will hurt you if you try to get them to notice you."
"Yes m'lord." She bit her lip working quietly. He starred at her body. She was very good to look at, even under the plain clothes that servants were required to wear. Her shape was long and curvy with skin like milk and hair as long as her legs. He suddenly felt hungry for a woman and shifted his weight to hide his growing arousal.
She worked nimbly lightly brushing against him and he cursed the wine. He knew he had to visit the brothel after the fight. His manhood throbbed as she worked around him.
"Good luck, m'lord. May the gods watch over you." She looked down at the ground handing him his sword.
He starred at her grabbing the sword from her grasp. "I'll be sure to grab a kiss from one of the noble women." He waited to see if the words stung.

"They will be honored to have your embrace, m'lord."
"Fuck the honor!" He spat watching her jump but she dare not look at him. "They're all whores, the noble women. You desire to be one of them? To only live to be a play thing tossed to the ground when your womb is used and your tits fall?" He picked up her chin making sure to tower over her. " I am fighting my brother, the Mountain today. He smashed a woman's face in for talking while he fucked her. If he wins you be sure not to give him that little box or a kiss, little flower. It would only be an insult and you'll lose your life. Such a sweet thing to give away to low scum."
He leaned over and kissed her mouth gently parting her lips slightly with his tongue. Holding her head he pushed himself into the kiss and lingered for a couple seconds feeling his own warmth between his legs grow. Her skin felt white hot as her hand brushed up against his while he worked his tongue in her mouth around her perfect teeth. He pulled away unsatisfied but clearly made his attentions known well enough. Upon looking at her confused expression disappointment welled up in him as he could see her reception wasn't the one he wanted. He felt immediate regret when he found her reaction to be more panic stricken as she took two small steps away from him and not the lively joy she had expressed when talking about her darling knights.
"Speak of this to no one." He spat bitterly making his face twist unhappily.
"Of-of course, m'lord." She walked quickly out of the tent. He picked up a goblet and threw it at the ground smashing it to pieces.

It had been a rough fight. Sandor and Gregor were both covered in blood and had been dueling to the death even though they were told not to. He had gotten Gregor to the ground once but was bested by a blow to the legs which now ached intensely. Fortunately for Sandor the head knight was observant and pulled them apart just as a killing blow was possible. Cursing he saw Gregor's arm rose in victory and the cheering of the crowd confirmed the giant as the winner. Bitterly angry and disagreeable he didn't face the crowd but got himself off the ground.

The servant girl consumed his thoughts. Damned woman. Probably why I lost, can't focus. Where's that damned brothel. Seven Hells.

Already in a foul mood he sliced open the tents canvas door with his sword instead of simply pushing it aside. "Don't bother-" Sandor allowed his gauntlets to hit the ground while the servant girl walked towards him meekly with a bowl of hot water and a rag. "Don't bother taking the armor off me. The whores will do it."

"Yes m'lord." She said putting the bowl down on the floor whilst picking up the gauntlet by his foot simultaneously.

"Where are those damned pastries?" he kicked the other gauntlet away from her so she would have to crawl further to get it. Searching for the little box on the wooden table he sprawled his hand to clear it.

"It is in Gregor's tent m'lord."
He didn't think it was possible to be any angrier than he was already but she had proven him wrong. "You really are stupid-" He walked over to her and picked her off the ground by her arm. Pulling her to her feet he yanked at her wrists. She gave a small cry. "Do you not listen? Do you know what it's like to be raped? Have you ever had a man tear through your maidenhead, soak up all your small cries? Lick your mouth and pull your hair as he spills his seed in you? Do you think that they're all 'bad men'? Ser Gregor, your honeyed knight, will first put you on your stomach and then bruise those precious thighs-" He forced a hand between her legs and put the weight of it on her privates over her clothes. "He'll force himself into you and put his full weight on you. Push you until you feel like you're breaking in half and then he'll pull your legs so far back that his cock feels like its in your stomach. Don't think that's where he'd stop, little flower. No-after he's done spilling every seed he makes into your belly gods save you if you get pregnant."

"Pl-please you're hurting me!" She tried to get away but he pushed her closer to his metal clad body.

"Hurting you? This isn't hurting you. This is mercy." He threw her at a chair making her lose her balance. Exasperated he took a filled goblet of wine and drank it down fully.

"Beg your pardon… m'lord it wasn't me who gave it to him." She rubbed her wrists and brushed the hair out of her face. She began to cry. His heart began to sink. "Gregor's tent servant saw it and I told her she could have it…S-she said G-Gregor…" She trailed off unable to speak as the tears welded down her face and dropped on the ground with more frequency.

He suddenly felt like shit shitting out shit. He grunted beside himself unable to think of how to comfort her. "Seven hells!" He growled. "Clean the damned armor-"

"I-I'm sorry." She said simply finally rising herself off the ground. She wiped her arm against her face and sniffed loudly trying to clean herself up. She put herself together save a few deep breaths to steady her crying. He looked at her wrists and saw some spots that were turning into bruises. He didn't say anything as she wiped the blood off of his arms with the small rag.

"Protect yourself, little flower." He wearily whispered. "Protect yourself from the Cleganes. Just stay away from me."

She sniffed. "Yes m'lord."

Where's that damned brothel.

Joffrey was becoming insufferable. It seemed like everyone in the damned world including the gods wanted him dead for his childish cruelty that he called his 'reign'. All except for the court of lords and ladies. It was a tiring thing not only looking over your own shoulder for a knife in the dark but for someone else's. Still- a dog never stopped serving his master because he is an asshole. Sandor walked through the busy marketplace relieved that he had gotten a day of rest from his duty. He enjoyed the occasional late rise after a night of whoring although last night still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew Gregor was still in the great city and wouldn't feel total ease until he left. He guessed that he wouldn't go back to the House Clegane until after Joffrey's name day.

"Fancy a trinket for yourself, sir? Or for a lady?" A toothless merchant chanted in his direction. The smells of the market was something Sandor was used to but the people was still something he wasn't. He preferred to be more invisible. Nonetheless, with time to kill he chose to humor the merchant while looking at the stand of wares in silence.

"This is all shit." He grumbled.

"Ahhhh you know better, you do! You are a smart man, you are- smarter than you look! A better man!" the old toothless merchant wagged his finger at the Hound.

Sandor seriously considered murdering him.

"I have a great thing, I do! A rare thing for your lady-"

"Do I look like I have a lady with me?" He barked angrily. His hand reached for the knife on his sheath.

"Your whore then!" The merchant interjected cheerfully.

It was a fair assumption. Sandor allowed his hand to go back to his side.

"What could you possibly have that would please a whore more than money?" He said it like a riddle.

"Oh you are a man who knows his whores." The merchant gave him a twinkled look.

Before he could stop himself Sandor rolled his eyes.

"What about this pretty beauty?" The merchant pulled out from his arm sleeve a rolled up cloth and uncovered a golden chain. On the end was a ball made from a dark red stone and beneath that a bigger green jade smoothed into a disk as big as a coin.

"Did you slit a man's throat for it?" Sandor jeered. He knew it was much too nice for a pig shit merchant to have.

"What do you care? Put this on your woman's neck and she'd suck your cock for a lifetime."

"You mean I'd be paying you for a lifetime instead of my woman's to suck my cock. No thanks." He began to walk away but the merchant stopped him with a gentle push to stay.

"Listen-I know you're the house Clegane. Lets see if we can make a deal. I don't need it anymore…my wife died and I'm dying now you see…"

"Shut the fuck up-" Disbelieving Sandor pushed the merchant out of his way.

"10 gallons of gold! Its all I ask-"

Sandor turned around. "5."

"Surely its worth 8-"

"You could probably melt 3 and make the chain, and use the other 2 to learn how to suck your own cock." This was getting colorful.

"6 and its yours."

"5 and your life stays yours." Sandor was done bartering he decided and his patience was worn ragged.

"Oh, uh…I meant 5." The merchant handed the necklace to Sandor and he made good on his trade.

He walked down the road staring at the necklace. It was very beautiful. On a very lonely night perhaps he would give it to a surly blonde in the tavern to make sure he'd have a good fuck.

Who am I fucking trying to fool besides myself.

He headed towards the kitchens.

A/N: Next Chapter- possible confrontation with Gregor who * might * have found out who made those darling pastries. What a Clegane wants a Clegane gets… Review!