Author's Note: This is a collection of one shots written a while back to enable me to explore a variety of characters without the obligation or responsibility that comes with writing a full out tale.

Characters: Sandor/The Hound, Eddard Stark, Catelyn Stark, Jon Snow, Myrcella 'Baratheon', Jaime Lannister, Joffrey 'Baratheon' (Sansa Stark, and Cersei Lannister mentioned).
Disclaimer: All this belongs to GRRM up to and including some quotes that were used directly from the novels (because of the scene its written in).
Beta Readers: As always a huge thank you to the lovely onborrowedwings for helping me make this work! Your help and wisdom is always greatly appreciated.

The Hound

'You rode him down?' The northern lord asked; his fingers still clutching the cloak of the lifeless boy who lay rumpled at his feet.

'He ran,' Sandor replied as his eyes met the Hand's horrified gaze. Amused by Lord Eddard's shock, the absurd idea that a seasoned warrior could be so naive as to believe in the dead ideals of honour, the Hound laughed.

'But not very fast.'

As he departed on his warhorse, Stranger, a memory came unbidden to his thoughts; an unexpected statement, from the most unexpected of persons.

'And you, dog, away with you, you're scaring my betrothed.'

'It was not him-it was the other one.'

Some days, Sandor hated himself worse than others; tonight he hated himself most of all.

He told himself that he did not understand why. He always was a poor liar.

Myrcella Baratheon

Myrcella was a woman grown, a wife, a dornish queen, and a Martell by marriage. Jaime Lannister was a liar, an oath breaker, and an incestuous cretin whose shadow, not unlike her mother had nearly crushed everything, and everyone, she loved. Yet in her father's presence she was every bit the pathetic little princess she had once been. Gone was the blissfully ignorant nine year old who believed in the goodness of men and silly notions of the truth setting you free. Only a guarded young queen remained; one who wanted nothing more than to shed her lion's skin for something better suited to her person.

'Do you really hate us so much?'

Standing proud before one of the many balconies that decorated Casterly Rock, Myrcella stared ahead into the pouring rain. Behind her at the entrance to her chambers, Jaime Lannister, her birth father, watched on. He sounded almost jovial as he questioned her hatred of their family; the disgust she bore at the idea of being a pure-blooded Lannister. She knew better, only a fool could ignore the weight behind his question.

She remained silent in contemplation. Were it anyone else she would have simply laughed and lied. However much she believed that she hated him, Myrcella could still not lie to the man. She may have been born a lion, but she had been well schooled by an unwitting Hound, and dogs never lie.

'Yes,' she answered.

The sound of his heavy footsteps fading into the hallway said more than any words could.

Jaime Lannister

Jaime never expected to see his daughter again. A painful, if not apt, punishment for the sins he had committed.

Myrcella stood before him; an elegant, tall yellow-haired beauty, with bright eyes of green, and lips that never ceased to smile.

Only she was not these things.

A long scar, partly hidden behind her long hair marred her porcelain skin. Her eyes once shining with joy carried an undeniable weight. Her lips no longer wore the smile of innocence, but the mystery of all unspoken.

Jaime could only imagine what she saw when she looked upon him; a cripple, a grotesque, an incestuous kingslayer, and a tired old man.

'Father?'

A single word spoken in hope, and Jaime's world threatened to come undone.

'Father! It does my heart good to see you again after so long!'

To his surprise, it did his heart good too.

Gone was the shadow of his deceased sister; in her place was the vibrant young girl he once called daughter in dreams alone. She smiled at him, and even her scars could not mar her perfect beauty. For all daughters are flawless in a father's eyes.

Frozen in place he stood, as so many words caught in his throat. The water that collected in his eyes remained unshed as her arms wrapped tightly around him.

His only daughter was alive and well; there was little else that mattered.

Sandor Clegane

'Mother says you are to be my training master, and mentor. You are to teach me all that a man should know.' Joffrey said in a voice filled with an admiration and a sincerity that Sandor had never witnessed in him before. Clearly the young prince supported his mother's claim, much to the Hound's disgust, and panic. He was many things; a fool was not one of them.

The proud, yet almost humble joy he saw in the ten year old's face when he spoke those words did little to ease the cold tendrils tightening around his throat. The last thing Sandor wanted was to become a surrogate father, literally or otherwise. Gods only knew what the boy saw in him, or his whore of a mother for that matter that deemed him worthy of being any child's guardian.

Clearly, the gods hated him even more than he once believed.

Jon Snow

'It should have been you,'

Jon was about to make his departure from Bran's bedchambers when the soft yet cold voice of Lady Catelyn was heard. Five words and something within him broke. For a moment he stood frozen in place as the room blurred from the unshed tears that burned in his eyes.

'Why do you hate me so much?' the question spilled from his lips before he had a chance to stop himself. The boy braced himself for the storm that was to come.

'You dare ask such a thing!' Catelyn balked.

I dare to ask such a thing?

The flush of rage and pain spurred him onwards. 'What have I done to have earned your hatred, Lady Stark? Was it my decision, my choice to be born a bastard? I can no more change who my mother was, any more than you could change her relationship, whatever it may have been, with Lord Stark,' he quietly said. Lady Catelyn was too stunned to speak. Even Jon was uncertain where his courage or his blatant disrespect came from.

'I'm not asking for your love, nor could I ever hope to earn your respect. I am no more at fault for what happened than you are. All I've wanted-needed- was for you to understand that.

'Please, leave us!' There was no ice in her voice; only desperation and sorrow.

'No, I will not,' he stiffly replied. Catelyn's eyes grew hard, then distant as she stared right through him. To his amazement she spoke not another word.

'None of this was ever my fault, nor was it ever yours-' he faltered, suddenly uncertain what it was that he wanted, or had hoped to accomplish. The truth came unbidden and it hurt more than he could have imagined.

'She may have birthed me, but you are the only mother that I have ever known. I just don't want my last memories of you to be shrouded in bitterness or hatred.' As soon as the words tumbled from his lips Jon left, fearing her reply. He imagined the admittance was as much a shock for her as it had been for him.

Having said his farewells to Robb and Arya, Rickon and Bran the night before, Jon had planned to leave without another word exchanged the following morning. The person he had not anticipated to see again was none other than Lady Stark.

'Jon,' she began, causing him to stop in midst of saddling his horse. It was the second time she had called him by his name. This time he was ready for the insult; it never came.

'May the gods go with you.'

Startled, Jon paused in mid-action uncertain how to respond. He wanted, needed even, to know if her words were a fierce jape, or if the apology he heard in her voice had been real. However when he turned to face her, the boy found himself alone; she was already long gone. He never saw her again.