#sansa and religion

[eruherdiriel]

This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this to me, how?

Sansa III, A Storm of Swords

[dr3adlady]

she mad at her husband😑

I've got a few words with other people who, like me, are fascinated with GRRM's writing and characters :) Apparently it's *trendy* to dunk on this ship and bully its shippers these days. It's beyond me why we should fight over every little silly thing. First and foremost, a Song of Ice and Fire is a hobby for me, and many others, and it should be treated as such. It should not affect our real life in a negative way. If you care immensely about lives of fictional characters to an extent that you find online bullying and insulting others for no real reason a 'moral' thing to do, I am seriously worried for you. It speaks of a certain immaturity when there are real problems in the world, when real people are being hurt, killed, thrown out of their houses, deprived of their human rights, etc, and some people here spend their lives fighting over some non-problems.

Sorry to rant, anyway, good day to everyone 💙

[dailysansastark]

'Let him.' When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she'd thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. 'I want it burned'

religion for @sansamonth2023

[dreamfyre-beautiful]

Honestly, I wanna know more about all of the Gods of asoiaf universe. Each one is so unique and interesting.

Even the 7 are debated if they are all actually 7 deities or 7 aspects of one God, that’s so interesting and adds so much world building to the world.

I wanna know more about the religions on pentos and how their religion affects their daily lives. Do some people not eat fish because of their Gods? So some only eat seafood? There’s so much to explore there!!

[clytemnaestraes]

“In the sept they sing for Mother's mercy but on the walls it's the Warrior they pray to [...] Septa Mordane used to tell them that the Warrior and the Mother were only two faces of the same great god. But if there is only one, whose prayers will be heard?” — Sansa V, ACOK

[westerosiladies]

Sansa Stark Month Day Three: Religion

[agentrouka-blog]

"But when the septon climbed on high and called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and noble king, Sansa got to her feet. The aisles were jammed with people. She had to shoulder through while the septon called upon the Smith to lend strength to Joffrey’s sword and shield, the Warrior to give him courage, the Father to defend him in his need. Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him. "

We had that.

At the end his "sword", his power of his menaces, ended broken and his "shield", his inmunity as the king, shattered, his "courage" failed him, on his last seconds of life he was scared of what was happening, and "every man desert him", as anybody who was truly at fault of his death was judged (LF will be, but not for this crime)

I love ACOK, Sansa V, and this scene is one of the loveliest.

She sits among the people, high and low, and they all sing together, a communal form of worship and prayer. She sings for her loved ones, for the ordinary people affected by this battle on both sides, even for some of her enemies.

He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.

But when the septon, the authority figure, climbs up to direct their devotion toward the singular figure of this undeserving cruel king, Sansa refuses, leaves, curses Joffrey instead. A private malediction. She will not forget who and what he is. She wants him stripped of every symbol of power and legitimacy.

Neither Sansa's gentle song nor her defiant curse have an appreciable effect. The Seven represent a very worldly kind of religion without any miracles or magic in evidence. Joffrey will die later, murdered by a different villain. Her family is further ripped apart and destroyed. There is no justice to be found. This scene doesn't tell us how prayer comes true.

What this scene does is tell us who Sansa is, what she longs for deep down, which is peace, mercy and justice. And it tells us what she will do with power.

The greatest effect she achieves that night is by her own actions: she saves Lancel. She calms the guests sheltering in the ballroom. She herself is the one who gentles the rage of the Hound with the Mother's Hymn, thereby saving herself. She used what power she had and she used it well.

As you point out, Joffrey is, indeed, betrayed, and stripped of power, courage, dignity in his end. There may be no magical or godly intervention doing the work, but villains can and do fall. The monsters don't always win. Their own worst qualities make them vulnerable. The consequences of their own cruelty tend to invite a sense of poetic justice.

Sansa is likely to remember that when she finds herself in a position of power again. When she has a real chance to affect the course of justice by her own actions. What she begs of the gods, she may well achieve herself.

[branwendaughterofllyr]

I'm tempted to think LF's talk of making Sansa a widow is a red herring only because LF killing Tyrion is the obvious foreshadowing. The Manderlys making sure Sansa gets her marriage to Tyrion annulled feels more like George's style only because there's some pretty consistent breadcrumbs pointing in that direction.

Actually, now that I think about it, LF talking about making Sansa a widow might be a subtle hint at Harry Hardyng biting it, and Tyrion is the misdirect. I’ve always thought that there’s no way LF is really going to give his Cat 2.0 to a young strapping entitled man that is basically the embodiment of everything LF hates. And even if LF doesn’t kill Harry directly and it happens through the circumstances of the tourney, seems like it could be foreshadowing of Harry dying soon rather than Tyrion.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Agreed, entirely. There's really no evidence any of the gods are "real gods", only that some people claiming their gods' favor have been empowered to do magic in their name. So why are the Faith's miracles considered less than any other? Put aside your bias re the Faith's resemblance to medieval Catholic structure, see what's actually there, per the examples above. (See also Sansa's prayer about Sandor, illustrated beautifully here.)

some of my favorite "evidence" for the Seven:

Davos, ardent worshipper of the seven, who stayed true in the face of a false god, is miraculously saved from drowning during the Blackwater and then, once he's stranded on a remote rock, he prays to the Mother for salvation and is delivered a ship.

Sandor, too, has a certain reverence for the Faith in him, even if he shows it in a blasphemous way, naming his horse Stranger; Sandor, too, is (probably) saved by the faith in exchange for a new life of devotion, doing peaceful work of the kind that the Hound was never allowed to do

this is the kind of thing I say when people tell me the Seven aren't real. Should we imagine that this is any less real than Melisandre or Thoros attributing her powers to "R'hllor" ?

[johannesburchard]

wait wait wait. jonsa AU in real medieval times where jon becomes a priest for basically the same reasons he joins the night's watch (thinks he's ned's illegitimate son, no inheritance, more opportunities for advancement, catelyn doesn't want him to stay, etc.) and he rises through the ranks ridiculously fast because of his noble heritage and because church officials keep being executed for getting embroiled in plots related to the disputed sucession... and then sansa flees to her brother, the like 20-year-old bishop of some far northern diocese, for safety after escaping her evil guardian petyr's clutches... and jon is all disillusioned with the church after realizing that everyone around him cares more about money and power than religion, and he's just desperately trying to ensure the people in the region have food and shelter in the face of the oncoming winter while doing his best to ignore everyone trying to persuade him to get involved in the succession disputes... and it's basically canon!jonsa post-reunion except with added religious guilt! :D

there's gotta be at least one scene of jon agonizing over whether or not to write the pope to beg for the annulment of sansa's marriage. on the one hand, what does he even have the authority of a bishop for if not for situations such as this... on the other hand, the fact that she's still technically someone else's wife is the only thing still keeping him from breaking his vows with her in the wake of the parentage reveal...

meanwhile sansa is kneeling at the altar every day begging god to set jon free and let her have him instead... she's like bargaining and promising to dedicate one of their children to the church in his stead or to set aside funds to establish a new convent or something as long as god will forgive jon for renouncing his priesthood... :D

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 14 ✿:+ I Am His And He Is Mine 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, SMUT, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, Unprotected P in V sex, Oral sex (M rec), multiple reader orgasms, grinding, spanking, biting, headlock (during sex), misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, mention of family deaths.

A/N: Hey siri play bewitched by laufey 

Word Count: 8.5K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

The day had not even passed yet, and you were already attempting to find a septon to affiliate the marriage. Sandor said that he would, but you were he would have threatened the poor man into it. Besides, Sandor now laid in your shared chamber in a deep sleep after being fucked so well after so long of not having any of you.

So you took the opportunity to seek out a septon. However, Winterfell lacked one after the battle of the Bastards. You were half prepared to simply perform it yourself when you overheard Jon speaking about the men who had arrived in Winterfell to aid in the great War that was soon approaching. One of the men was a priest of the Lord of Light, Beric Dondarrion. It wasn’t the religion you or Sandor were raised in, however you didn’t care. If it eased the minds of Lords and Ladies that you and he were wed under a priest or septon you didn’t care what religion it was. 

You found the man easily, his description wasn’t hard to remember. A man with one eye.

You approached the man somewhat nervous that someone would overhear your inquiry or that he would refuse it, “Hello.” you spoke respectfully and gently. 

“My Lady.” The man said with a smile and a soft bow of his head. 

You smiled in return, “Beric Dondarian if I am not mistaken?”

He shook his head, “You are not. And you are Lady Arryn.” He pointed to the falcon embroidered onto the blue velvet of your gown that Sansa had made for you.

You looked down at the embroidering and smiled, “Is it that obvious?” You chuckled, “Would you walk with me?” You asked as you tilted your head towards the path you wished to follow. Beric willingly followed you, “I- I apologize if this is asking too much, but I am to be married and Winterfell lacks a septon.” 

“I am not a septon, my Lady.” He said as he shook his head,

“No, but I hear you are a priest, or close to one.” You said gently attempting to coax the man into marrying you and your betrothed. 

“I speak the Lord's words, that is all.” He said humbly

“We wish to be wed before the war. Tonight in fact.” You said cutting to the point.

Beric smiled, turned to face you, “What God do you follow?”

You faced him, “Well, my intended has no real interest in it, and I admit I pay little mind to it as well. But we were both brought up in the faith of the seven.” 

He sighed, “Not the Gods I follow, I am afraid. Who is the lucky man if I may ask?” He asked, attempting to divert your mind to something more pleasant. 

“Sandor Clegane.” You said softly, disappointed. 

“Sandor Clegane?” Beric asked with wider eyes,

“That’s right.” You nodded, looking at him with narrow eyes, unsure of his reaction.

“I’ll do it. Not the Gods I follow, but I can manage it.” Beric conceded, with a smile.

You stepped closer to him, “You know him? Sandor.” You asked with even more narrowed eyes.

Beric chuckled to himself softly, “I think you and I have much to talk about.” 

And talked to you and he did. He told you all of he and Sandors journey, and Sandors clear devotion towards you. It only solidified your commitment towards this engagement.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that evening, after everyone had either taken to their chambers or flocked to the taverns, you and Sandor met in the Godswood. You saw him before he saw you. He wore black leathers and an old and tattered black cloak in an attempt to remain discrete. As if his large size wouldn’t have given away who he was. 

You wore an ivory gown, with a blue lace trim. You were less concerned with remaining discrete. Come the morn you and he would be known as husband and wife, lord and lady throughout the realm. You’d have Ser Leon responsible for sending word around the realm, including Winterfell. 

As Sandor turned, his deep brown eyes widened at the beauty of your appearance. His mouth twitched as he held back a smile as you approached him. 

“You sure you want this? You can’t take it back.” He said softly as you came face to face with him.

“You’ve said that before.” You jested, remembered when he gave you the same lecture just before taking your maidenhood. Sandor sighed as his mouth twitched with annoyance. You smiled and placed a hand on his, “Yes, yes I’m sure.” You said sweetly, “Are you?” You asked, searching his deep brown eyes, he nodded as his hand came to caress your cheek. You smiled and he graced you with a soft smile in return. Your eyes quickly went to a man standing by the Heart tree, it was Beric, waiting for you and Sandor. “I found someone who could do it,” You said, still looking over to Beric. 

Sandor looked in the direction you were looking in. As his eyes fell upon Beric he huffed. “Fucking hells…” He said as you and he approached Beric. Beric smiled at the both of you as you came face to face with him. “The fuck you doing here?” Sandor grumbled, making you smirk.

Beric smiled, “Wedding you to the woman I separated you from.” Beric looked around, noticing you and he were alone, “No witnesses?” He asked, 

“Does it matter?” Sandor asked, 

“Suppose not-” Beric began,

Sandor interrupted, “Then get on with it.” He huffed. 

You and Beric smiled at one another, amused. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Beric said. Normally the groom would have had a cloak. Embroidered in his house's sigil, colored in his house's colors. But because he’d no time to have one made, nor did he have any desire to make you a Clegane, no desire to bring you closer to the horror of his family tree he wrapped you in the black cloak he wore. His protection would be fierce and loyal. Beric began “We stand here, in the sight of the Gods and… ourselves.” He said, noting the lack of witnesses, “In thanks and praise, to join two souls as one. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” You and Sandor looked upon one another, his eyes were beautiful, and his gaze was warm. “Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…” Sandors hand slowly and discretely found yours, “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Hear now their words. Look upon one another and say the words.” Beric instructed, 

You turned to Sandor, peering into his eyes, your eyes filled with emotion “I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days, whatever may come.” You said, placing a hand on his scarred cheek. 

Sandor held the wrist of your hand that held his cheek, “I am hers, and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days, whatever may come.” He recited,

“Now the pledge.” Beric said, assuming Sandor would know what to do.

Sandor however did not know, “Pledge?” He asked looking back at Beric

“The pledge of love.” Beric explained, Sandor was still confused and narrowed his eyes.

“It’s the kiss.” You explained further.

It finally clicked, “In front of him?” Sandor asked with wide eyes. It was as if you had said he was to bed you in front of him.

“Come on, Clegane-” Beric huffed,

You turned Sandors face towards you, “I’ll say it with you.” you said trying to comfort him. Sandor sighed.

In unison you both said, “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” 

The kiss you and he shared, was soft, gentle, and smooth. It was covered in love and felt like a form of worship. As you pulled apart. 

“Hold hands,” Beric said as he began tying a ribbon around your hands. “Now the vows.” Beric said hushly, pushing you to continue the ceremony, 

You smiled as you looked up at Sandor, “And I take you for my Lord, and Husband.” You said sweetly, and softly.

Resting his forehead against yours, he spoke his vows, “And I take you for my Lady, and Wife.” His words filled with you a bliss you hadn’t felt in so long. No more could anyone force you into a marriage you did not want. No more would your love be a secret. And forever more would you be his and he would be yours.

Beric finished tying the ribbon around your clasped hands in union. “Then in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim (Y/N) of house Arryn and Sandor of house Clegane, to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who seek to tear them asunder.” Beric smiled, as the both of you looked upon one another, at loss for what to say, “You are now, husband and wife.” Beric said less formally as he began to walk away, “I have mended what I tore apart.” He said leaving you and Sandor at the heart tree. Without a moment of hesitation once left alone Sandor grabbed hold of you by your arms. 

Pulling you up to meet his starved mouth. As his lips clashed with yours he pushed you against the tree, his hands roamed your body lustful, prideful of what was now his. You moaned into his lips, it was near torment to pull away, but you knew well enough this wedding alone would be scandalized. Being caught coupling against the heart tree within the Godswood would only add to that scandalization. 

“Not here,” You held his face, “In our own chambers. We’ve fucked enough in the woods.” You said recounting your brief days of freedom after the blackwater. 

Sandor nodded, and wasted no time rushing you off to your chambers. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

In the beautiful light of the fire, Sandor unclothed before you, you watched mesmerized. You pressed your thighs together as he laid on your now shared bed. He looked upon you sweetly, as you took hold of your chemise and pulled it over your head. His eyes trailed over your naked body, he swallowed hard as he attempted to restrain himself from ravishing you right then.

You crawled towards him on your bed. You ran your fingers down his hairy and broad chest. Taking in all of him. You ran your hand over his scars, no doubt earned in battle, valiantly. Your hand stopped at one large scar that was just above his pelvis. Laying across his lower stomach. You thought of how deep it must have been to create such a scar. How his life could have been taken- without thinking of it you leaned down, and kissed the scar. Your soft warm lips made Sandors muscles tense.

His hand came to pet your head, running his hand through your hair, “Say those words again.“ He said, his voice so deep it rumbled in his chest.

“What words?” You asked, looking up at him, resting your chin on his stomach. The view made his arousal grow.

“You are mine.” He whispered, 

You smiled sweetly at him, “I am yours,” You ran your hand down his stomach, “Only yours.” 

“Mine-“ He began but was cut short by a groan that he tried to hold back behind gritted teeth as your hand found his tenting arousal.

You palmed it, with expertise, knowing just how he liked it, “And who do you belong to?” As asked, your voice is still gentle despite your clear power over him.

He smirked slightly, looking at you with love, “You.” he said, “Only you.” He said as his hand came to your chin, pulling you to his mouth. Almost immediately his tongue found yours as his hands found your body. Caressing your breasts gently, contrasting his calloused and rough hands. 

You continued to palm his cock, cherishing the moans and groans that left his lips and poured into your mouth. Unable to resist it, you pulled his length out from his small clothes. Stroking it, slowly, almost teasingly. 

“Fuck-” He hissed into your mouth with another sweet moan. You began to straddle his thigh as you rocked yourself against him as you continued to stroke his cock in your hand. His muscles tensed, only making it all the more pleasurable for you to grind yourself on his thigh. Making you buck your hips uncontrollably. 

You had to stop yourself, as an uncontrollable desire washed over you. You seized your movements, making Sandor near whine if he hadn’t stopped himself. Instead he grunted, “What the fuck are you-” He asked as you lowered yourself between his legs. He sat up, unsure if he’d be able to control himself if you began what you were about to. 

“Let me,” You said sweetly, “I’ve not done it properly to you.” You said gently as you stroked his length again, causing him to submit. He laid back into the cushion of your bed letting out a soft groan.

And so, you began. Taking his cock into your mouth, just the tip was enough to make Sandor grip onto the blankets, he grunted as you worked your way lower and lower. Careful to take your time. You worked your tongue along as you sucked. 

He was large, thick and long, it was indeed a challenge, but one that you were set on. And his moans only encourage you. Masterfully, somehow, you were able to navigate what he liked most simply by listening to his moans and soon you fell into a rhythm. As you did you felt your core beginning to ache, almost painfully. So you slid one hand into the wetness of your cunt as you sucked your husband's cock. His hand came to your head, not harsh or forceful, just tangling his hand in your hair. Wanting to be close to you. 

Once he noticed your hand, working you, his knuckles practically turned white gripping the sheets. “Fuck,” He hissed, “I can’t-can’t last long.” He said holding back pathetic moans. “I need your cunt.” He practically growled. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t need the relief either. 

So you released him, your lips swollen and your cunt aching. 

Sandor pulled your face to his own, kissing your wet lips. “Such a pretty fucking mouth” He said into your lips. As he was distracted with your lips, you straddled his lap, beginning to push yourself down onto his cock, only making him kiss you with more fury as he and you moaned into one another mouths. 

There was practically no burn, his cock was so wet, and your cunt was too. He could have slid in with ease, but you didn’t want him slowly. You plunged him into your cunt. Making him grip the plush of your hips. So tightly you knew it would be leaving a mark the next day. 

Your lips parted from him, wanting to hear his moans, the moans you were working so hard on to produce from him. “You’re mine.” You said in a breathy moan as you rode him. 

“Don’t forget that.” He said, as Your pace did not let up or slow. Moaning and not caring who heard it. Your hips rocked against Sandor as he moaned and groaned behind gritted teeth.

Without warning Sandor sat up, wrapping his arms around you as you bucked against him. His mouth ravaged your breasts, chest, and your neck. 

“Sandor!” You moaned, making him buck his hips up into you. His cock was hitting that perfect spot in your cunt, and mercilessly pounding against your cervix. You clenched around him harder and harder, pulsing, “Gods! I need to-Sandor,” You called out to him pathetically, “I need to-I’m going to-” You plead desperately. 

“I know birdie,” He said as he kept bucking into you, “Cum on me,” He said as his mouth went to your nipple, sucking at it as he bit slightly. 

The bite sent a shock wave through you and you couldn’t help it, clenching down on him you felt the tension in you snap and you felt yourself shake. He held you as you reached your peak, “I want to fuck my seed into you.” He groaned deeply against your hot skin. All you could was nod, blinded by your orgasm. But soon you were shot back to reality as his seed shot deep within you. You felt the heat painting you from inside. 

The only thing you both could do was collapse into one another arms as you laid there recovering the euphoria. 

Panting against one another, laying in one another arms, feeling the others hot and sticky skin. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

That was nothing like the wedding you were always promised. You were always told you were to marry a highborn lord, maybe even the prince. You were going to wed in a great sept, with all the lords and ladies of the seven kingdoms in attendance. Your father would give you away, and then you’d be shipped off to live with that lord for the rest of your days. But this wasn’t the wedding others wanted for you, this was the wedding you wanted for you.

Sandor had carried you off to your bathing chamber. After drawing you a bath he lowered your naked form into the warm water. He only in breeches, bathed you. Washing water over your hair, careful not to get any in your face. 

“I want to know more.” You said, your eyes half lidded, in pure bliss at that moment.

“About what?” He asked gentler than normal.

“You. Your life.” You said sweetly, as you looked into his eyes. His eyes looked like a baby calf’s. Deep brown eyes, with long thick lashes. They made you smile.

“What about it?” He asked, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

You smiled and shook your head, “I don’t know, that’s the issue. What of your family?”

Sandor sighed, “Father was a Knight for the Lannisters, Mother was a bastard of Crakehall.” He looked down, thinking back to her, “I don’t remember much of her. She died giving birth to a sister I don’t remember either.” You placed a hand on his, you didn’t know that you’d had that in common, “My father died hunting with Gregor. He says it was an accident but I know it wasn’t.” His tone got darker, “The day he died I left our keep and Gregor inherited it all. I went to King's Landing. I became the Lannisters' sword, their dog. I never went back to the keep.” He said, returning his attention back to you. 

“You never want to go back?” You asked, with narrowed brows. 

He shook his head stoically, “I’m just a second son. That land isn’t mine.” He said as he began to clean your nails with a washcloth.

“Your brother is a Queen's Guard now. He has given up his land.” You said gently.

He stopped, and looked at you, his eyes filled with... Fear? “I don’t want to go back there… I don’t want you there. When Gregor attacked me, it took three men to pull him off. Three fucking men to pull him off his own little brother.” He began to rile himself up, 

“Shhh…” You said as you caressed his face, rubbing your thumb against his cheek. 

He put his hand on top of the hand you caressed his cheek with, “I don’t want you near him.” He said earnestly, “My brother has taken any family I have ever had, he can’t take you.”

You sat up in your tub, getting closer to his face. “He won’t.” You said just as earnestly. As you sat back, you directed the conversation more pleasantly. “You are much more than a second son. What do you want?” Sandor looked at you confused, “My ambitions can’t be all we attend to. What do you want?” You asked gently

He thought for a moment, then answered, “Peace. I want to lay in a bed with you, after a day of eating, drinking, and fucking.” 

You smiled, and took his hand, “I think we can accommodate that.” You said as you playfully bit onto his hand.

He smiled at you slightly, “I thought for fucks sure, you would marry some cunt lord right in front of me.” His tone darkened again,

“I wouldn’t have been able to.” You said as you kissed his hand.

“You wouldn’t have had the choice.” He sighed, “I don’t believe in fairytales and holy vows. But… here we are.” He looked at you in awe, as if you’d hung each star in the sky. “What's this vow? The one you promised to your mother. I never asked.” He asked, realizing he should have asked long long ago. 

You looked down, fidgeting with your fingers, taking a breath before beginning. “My mother tried to give my father a son for as long as I could remember. Always on her childbed. And each time, she lost the babe. I was the only living babe she birthed. You can imagine the disappointment my father felt.” You sighed a laugh, attempting to make light of the pain you felt. Sandors eyes however felt the pain you did, “But with each birth it was more and more difficult.” You continued, “Her last babe came early… far too early. The maester wasn’t even in the Eyrie, he was below in the Moongates. It’s miles from the Eyrie.” Your eyes stared off somewhere distant, as if you were there as you retold the horrible tale. “My father left to retrieve him personally, as my mother labored. She didn’t want any of the handmaidens touching her. The pain was too great. She laid there bleeding and screaming. She only allowed me in. All her handmaidens were huddled in a corner of the room, watching in horror.” You shook your head slowly, thinking back on it, “When the babe finally came, my mother had lost so much blood, she knew she was dying. She held my face and made me promise that I would keep her son,” You took a deep breath fighting back emotion. “and her house, safe.” You looked back to Sandor, “I held that boy in my arms for hours. Edmure, I called him. He was so small, and fragile. I didn’t let any of the handmaidens touch him. I just sat there on the floor holding him. Rocking him back and forth. When the maester finally came, he demanded I give him the boy. So I did.” A single tear fell from your cheek as you finished, “He died right then.” You wiped it, and looked down. “My father named me heir, maybe to mend our broken bond, maybe to mend his favor to the Gods for he’d done to my mother. But not until he agreed to marry my aunt.” You said, your tone deeper.

After that. The truth was that if your father wasn’t beloved by you, or already dead in the ground, Sandor would’ve beaten him to a pulp for what he’d done.

Sandor forced you to look at him, pulling your gaze to his by holding your chin up. “I’ll help you get it. If anyone tries to stop you I’ll kill them. Anything you want I’ll bring it to your feet.” He vowed, as you rested your forehead onto his. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

The next morning, you were missing in attendance at Jon’s small council meeting. What they didn’t know was that you were sound asleep in your chambers with your new husband. 

Jon sat there, annoyed as he said, “Where is (Y/N).” He looked to Sansa expecting she’d know, “She is part of this council, she should be here.”

“Unwell I presume.” Sansa said stoically.

“We must allow her some grace. The morning after your wedding night is often tiring or so I hear.” Varys, Tyrion's spider said. The air in the room was sucked out, Varys looked around “I surely cannot be the only one to know. They did it in Godswood last night.”

“Married to who?” Jon asked with furrowed brows,

“The Hound.” Varys said.

“The Hound?” Jon asked in disbelief. 

“The Hound.” Sansa said, unphased by the news.

“You knew?” Jon asked Sansa, angrily.

Sansa shrugged, “I assumed it would happen.”

Jon scoffed, “How would you assume that? A man like that-”

“I shall retrieve her.” Sansa interrupted Jons ramblings, as she stood up ready to retrieve you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

That night you fell asleep in one another’s arms. You were holding him close to your naked form. Rocking your hips slowly, with his cock still in you. When you finally drifted into sleep, neither of you moved from one another. So when you awoke he was still in you. 

“Mmmphm.” You groaned as Sandor slid out of you,

“Sorry.” Sandor said as he brushed your hair from your face. 

“It’s alright.” You smiled softly, “I’m just happy to sleep beside you.” You rested your chin against his chest looking up at him, he kept staring at you. “What?” You asked with a sweet smile.

“Beautiful.” He whispered as he caressed your face. 

“I am a mess.” You said, and you weren’t wrong. Your hair was tangled from sleep, and you were half naked as your chemise was falling off of you.

“No.” You asserted, as he pulled your face close to his, kissing you sweetly. 

“Handsome.” You said rubbing your nose against his.

“Fuck off,” He grumbled, 

You raised your brows at him, “You don’t believe me?” You asked offendedly. When he shook his head you leaned down and bit his arm. Not deeply but enough to leave a pretty mark.

“Ah!” He moaned, “Fuck are you doing?” He asked, 

“You think I’m a liar?” You said offendedly, 

“Look at me.” He sighed, confident that he were not handsome. 

“I am.” You said softly, confident that he was.

Just as you were about to kiss and most likely fall into another hour of fucking, a knocking at your chamber door interrupted any plans you may of had.

Sandor groaned as you in haste flew out of your bed and found a robe to cover yourself. 

As you walked to the door you opened it slightly to see Sansa standing there. 

“Is there something needed of me?” You asked softly,

“Your presence in the council meeting.” She said a bit annoyed. 

You quickly stepped into the hallway with Sansa. Closing the door so no one would see your naked husband in your bed. “I am sorry, last night I could not find sleep-” 

She interrupted you, “I am not stupid. The dragon queen's spider saw you and the hound wed last night.” 

You sighed, “Well, I suppose that makes things easier.” You attempted to jest.

“Why did you not tell me?” She asked, earnest and hurt.

You stepped towards her, “No one was to know, not until afterwards. Then I would have told you, of course.” 

“I would have made you a gown.” She said finding it hard to stay upset with you.

“I’ve no doubt it would have been the most beautiful in the realm.” You smiled, and she smiled back in return. You placed a hand on her arm “I am sorry.” You said earnestly. She sighed and nodded. Soon turning her attention to the state of your hair.

“What happened in there?” She asked

“Many things.” You said with a smirk.

“Many things?” She questioned.

“Many things.” You restated

Sansa huffed a giggle, “Rest, I’ll mend your obligations.” She said as she left.

You did as she asked, 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

As you rested your husband, now taking his duties seriously, set out to find you something to eat. 

Not before finding trouble in the courtyard. 

Word had traveled fast since one of the spider's informants had seen you and the Hound wed. And Sandor was not a fan of the new looks he was getting. They were different from the fearful looks he was used to. 

Some man, a knight of some minor house in the North approached Sandor, “They call you the Hound. What noble lady would marry a Hound?” He asked unreasonably confidently. The other knights around him began to snicker, “Tell me, did you fuck her like a Hound, that why she was forced to marry-” The man couldn’t finish his insult before the Hounds fist met the mans jaw. The man hit the floor, his mouth bleeding and his jaw more than likely broken. All the snickering ceased.

Sandor looked around at all the men and said, “Any more words come out of any of your cunt mouths about my wife, I’ll take your head.” He began to walk before Tormund stopped him.

Tormunds eyes were wide and hurt, “She’s your wife?” he asked, 

Sandor looked at him with pride as he leaned in, “Aye. She’s my fucking wife.” he said in a deep and low voice, as if it were a warning.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

It didn’t take long for Sandor to hear another person's opinion on his new betrothal. As he was leaving the blacksmith, after getting his dragon glass ax, he was approached by Jon. 

“You married (Y/N), In the late hours of the night?” He asked angrily.

“Aye.” Sandor sighed, already tired by the interaction.

“Why?” Jon asked, clearly upset by the entire situation.

“Fuck do you think?” Sandor said, walking past jon.

“Why her, why my cousin?” Jon asked, following him.

“You share no blood with her.” Sandor said, his tone much calmer than Jons.

“Answer the question.” Jon commanded,

Sandor stopped and stepped closer to Jon, “She’s a strong woman.” 

Jon’s eyes narrowed, “Aye, a strong woman who’s run from every betrothal that’s been offered to her-“

“Offered?” Sandor scoffed, knowing all of your other betrothals were against your will.

“Why her?” Jon finally asked.

Sandor stepped enough closer to Jon, making Jon take a step back. “We both know ‘Why her?’ What you and I both want to know is ‘Why me?’. And for fucks sake I don’t know.” He said earnestly

Jon searching for a reason could only find ones that weren’t true, was she pregnant, was he forcing her? “Did you- did-“

Sandor, knowing where his accusations were going, stopped Jon. Worrying if he finished his sentence he’d have to beat the cousin of his wife. “You’re protective over your own. Over her. I appreciate that. But she’s my own now too. And I protected her fuck lot better than you did in Kings Landing. Protect your sisters too. Don’t believe me? Ask her.” Sandor’s tone was softer now. Understanding Jons confusion because shared it too. “Dont think she’s some lost fucking babe in the woods. That fucking woman is more clever than that bald cunt you cling to. The only reason you have this bloody castle is cause of her. Without (Y/N) those Bolton animals would be here. My wife knows what she’s doing.” He said with pride, “Now, I’ve got to find something for my wife to eat.” Sandor said as he left Jon to stew in his anger and confusion. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

You however were no longer resting in your chambers. You were now walking with Ser Leon, around the battle preparations. You saw the men creating the armor for your knights 

“You should be plating their armor with leather.” You said the man creating the armor.

“The Vale is known by silver and blue, My Lady.” The man said, 

“The Vale will not survive this war if their soldiers die from the cold. Then they will not be known for anything. Plate them in leather.” You corrected the man. 

“Yes, my Lady.” The man nodded his head. 

You turned to Ser Leon, “And I want each man equipped with dragon glass swords, as well as daggers.” You said confidently.

“A wise choice my Lady.” Ser Leon said. 

“When the time comes, Brienne of Tarth will lead the Knights into battle. You will lead our archers at the castle walls, Ser Leon.” You said 

“My Lady, If I may…” Ser Leon said, and you nodded allowing him to express himself. “A Knight of the Vale should lead the Knights of the Vale.” 

“Ser Leon, you have stepped up the challenges that Ser Cole left behind. And you’ve done a wonderful job at it. If we win this war I want you alive for the next. Is that clear?” You said with the cadence that of a queen.

Ser Leon nodded, “Yes, my Lady.”

You smiled, “Good, on with it then.” You dismissed him. As he left you noticed behind him was your Lord Husband.

“Husband.” You said smiling.

“Wife.” He said in return as he walked towards you.

“Did you get your ax?” You asked. Sandor held up the ax, allowing you to examine it, your pretty fingers gliding across the blade, “A pretty weapon isn’t it?” You said as you looked at the deep black color of the dragon glass.

Sandor smirked, “You know about weapons now do you, birdie?” He asked strangely seductively for a man who was hesitant to kiss you in front of another man just that night. 

“I’ve become accustomed.” You said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sandor leaned in closer to you, “I like watching you bark at those men.” He whispered,

You smirked, “I like the way you look at me when you watch.”  

“Well…” He said, stepping even closer to you, “Some of your pretty knights keep following me around.” 

“Does my Lord Husband not wish for this?” You asked, Sandor shook his head with a smirk. You looked behind him, noticing the two knights in question. “Ser Máximos.” You said, 

“Yes, My Lady?” Ser Maximos said,

“You and Ser Agustin are dismissed. And let it be known my Lord Husband needn’t any protection. He does well enough on his own.” You commanded,

“Yes, my Lady.” Ser Maximos said as he and Ser Agustin left. 

You looked back to Sandor, seeing his eyes hungry and lustful “Come Husband, I’ve a gift for you.” You said sweetly as you led him back to your shared chambers.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

And a gift you did indeed have. You had black armor made for Sandor, now that his last set of armor was ruined after he and Brienne’s battle. 

“I had it made.” You said as you helped him put the armor on, “You cannot fight in a war without armor.” Sandor looked at you like you know that he could fight a war without armor, “I would not send you into one unarmored.” You explained. 

“No bird?” Sandor asked as he looked at the armor, noticing that you did not brand his armor with your house sigil. 

“You aren’t a knight of the Vale. You’re not owned.” You said clasping the last bits of his armor onto him “You’re a true warrior, in your own right. I wouldn’t brand your armor.” You said as you looked him up and down, as all of his armor besides his gloves were on, “Do you like it?”

“It’s armor.” Sandor huffed, not caring for the aesthetics of what he wore, “Thank you.” he said softly.

“The men who made it said it was quite difficult to get it right.” You said running your hands along his armor, admiring his body. 

“That’s cause I’m a big fucker.” He grumbled, 

“Yes…” You said lost in the filthy thoughts you were having by simply laying your eyes on his form in the armor. Your eyes found his, “It’s a good thing.” You clarified. Your hands found his, as you looked down you noticed his right hand knuckles were bruised, “What happened to your knuckles?” You said, running your thumb along them.

“Mhpm… The man's jaw was harder than it looked.” He said with a shrug, trying to blow it off completely.

“And why did you feel the need to hit another man?” you questioned, 

“Because I didn’t have a blade.” Sandor said, you tilted your head at his response. Your face obviously showed that you were not satisfied with his answer. “The fucker had it coming.” He said frustrated, and angry thinking back to what the man had said. “Said some cuntmouthed shit about you.”

“What?” You questioned gently, 

“Some old maid horseshit.” He huffed. You still stared at him waiting for more information unsatisfied with the answers he was giving you. “You were forced to wed me because I defiled you, there.” He huffed. 

You smiled at Sandor. You hated to admit it, but it aroused you. That he would hit a man over an insult. His armor didn’t help calm your arousal either, you trailed your fingers against the skin of his neck, “I wasn’t forced. And I like it when you defile me.” You said seductively. Sandors hand came around your throat gently, about to ravage you, until, just like this morning, a knock fell on your chamber door.  

“Who is it?” Sandor barked, angry someone dared interrupt. 

“Ser Leon, my Lord.” Ser Leon said from behind the door.

“Fuck does he want?” Sandor rasped, low enough just for you to hear. 

You smirked at his frustration, “What is it, Ser Leon?” You asked loud enough for Ser Leon to hear from beyond the door. 

“Queen Danerys, Lord Snow, and Lady Sansa have requested your council, my Lady.” Ser Leon said. 

You sighed, kissing your husband once more, sweetly before making your way to the council room. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ 

As you sat among the council members, Jon, Sansa, and Daenerys, your Lord Husband stood behind you, acting as your sworn shield. 

You and the council heard the plea of Jaime Lannister, begging for him to be allowed to stay and fight in Winterfell. It was clear that Daenerys was not happy with the prospect of having the murderer of her father stay. And that you could understand. 

However when it came time to decide whether or not he would be staying, Brienne of Tarth defended Jaimes plea.

Sansa, trusting her own sworn sword stated, “I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, we should let him stay.” 

Daenerys, unhappy with this judgment, turned to Jon, “What does the warden of the North say about this?” 

Jon, painfully conceded, knowing it would upset her. “We need every man we can get.”

Daenerys, still unhappy, in a last stitch effort turned her attention towards you. “And the East?”

Unafraid with your husband behind you, you stated confidently, “I trust the judgments of Lady Sansa, and Jon is right. If the threat is as great as you say, we need every man we can get.” 

She looked upon you with angry eyes, “Very well.” Dany conceded, angrily.

As you rose from your chair, your Husband stood behind you. You and he walked down the hall together, 

“I don’t think she likes me.” You said to your husband.

“Then she’s a cunt.” Sandor said,

“Saved your life did she not?” You questioned.

“Eh.” Sandor said, not disregarding any of that.

You smirked, and you looked back to Sandor, “How do you feel about it? Having another Lannister here.” You asked, genuinely wondering if it had made him uncomfortable.

Sandor shrugged as you and he walked, “Least that one didn’t try to fuck you.” He huffed.

“Fair point.” You said as you and he entered the library where you and Sansa were to discuss further battle plans with Lord Royce. 

Not long after, Daenerys entered the library. You and Sansa stood in her presence. 

“I would like to speak to the Ladies alone.” Daenerys said, looking at Lord Royce and Sandor.

Sandor stood his ground behind you. Unwilling to take any command from anyone other than you. You looked at Sandor, “It’s alright.” You said softly. Sandor nodded and left you, Sansa, and Daenerys to speak in privacy. 

“I thought we were all on the verge of an agreement about Ser Jaime.” Daenerys said as she stepped towards you and Sansa. 

“Brienne has always been loyal to me. I trust her.” Sansa said, in her tone it was clear that she did not trust Daenerys.

Daenerys smiled, “I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors.” 

“Tyrion is a good man.” You said, attempting to defend your former betrothed, “He can be arrogant but has been nothing but decent.” 

“I didn’t ask him to be my advisor because he was good. I asked him to be my hand because he is good, intelligent, and ruthless when he needs to be.” Daenerys said as she stepped closer to you and Sansa. “He should have never trusted Cersei.” 

“Neither should have you.” Sansa said, boldly. 

“I thought he knew his sister.” Daenerys said, with a smile.

“Families are complicated.” You said, sitting down.

“Ours certainly have been.” Daenerys said as she sat down as well. 

“A sad thing for us all to have in common.” You said, trying to bridge a commonality between the women in this room. 

“We share more than that. We all know what it means to lead people who aren’t inclined to accept a woman’s rule. And we’ve all done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell.” Daenerys said, kindly. Sansa smiled at her words. “And yet, I can’t help but feel we’re at odds with one another. Why is that?” She asked softly. 

“What happens afterwards?” Sansa asked earnestly, “We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei. What happens then?”

“I take the Iron Throne.” Daenerys said, you felt the tension in the room rise once again. 

“What about the North? It was taken from us, and we took it back and we said we’d never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?”  Sansa reasserted. You admired her boldness but knew she was choosing a dangerous path.

“Excuse me my Ladies-“ Lord Royce announced as he entered the room.

“What is it?” Daenerys said angrily at the interruption. 

“Theon Greyjoy has arrived, my Lady.” Royce said.

“Theon?” Sansa said in disbelief. 

She and Daenerys left the library in haste. You however, overwhelmed with the interaction, stayed behind. You cleaned up the books that you and Sansa were using. As you did, Jon entered the chamber.

“So, you’re a married woman now.” He said, 

“Said the vows willingly.” You said in a sigh, not wanting to explain your love. 

“The Hound?” Jon questioned you sharply.

“Sandor Clegane, is his name.” You corrected him.

“And you? Lady Clegane, now?” Jon asked, almost taunting you.

“I’ve kept my name.” You said calmly.

“He’s alright with that?” Jon questioned.

“According to law, If a Lady born in a higher station than her betrothed she keeps her name. Besides, he doesn't care about names.” You said as you put the books you were using back on their correct shelves.

“You sure he’s… right for you?” Jon asked, calmly.

“Why do you care?” You asked, turning to face him head on.

“You are my cousin-”

You interrupted him, “That’s not what you said when I arrived in Castle Black.” You said defiantly.

Jon sighed, “I was wrong. We might not be blood but I care. I do not wish to see you harmed.”

You scoffed, “And you think he will harm me? Why? Do you place a judgment on him because of his name?” You asked, walking towards him.

“I place judgment because of the brutality the Cleganes have inflicted.” He said, as if he knew better than you did. 

“You’re playing the role of a protective brother now?” You held in a laugh, amused by how ridiculous his accusations were. He did not know him at all. 

“Just heard stories is all.” Jon said

You signed, “He isn’t like his brother. He has committed dishonorable acts in the name of the King. But what was he to do? Besides, he has long atoned for them.” You said, attempting to ease Jon’s worries. 

“You don’t think he’ll harm you?” Jon asked softly, 

“I know he won’t.” You said confidently, “He is my Lord Husband, my sworn shield and sword. He serves me with faithfulness, valor, devotion…” Your strong headed and defiant demeanor dropped, replaced with a more soft and earnest one, “and love.” You said with a smile.

Jon sighed, and nodded “Alright then. You’re an intelligent woman, a strong one too. If you trust him-”

“I do. More than anyone.” You asserted,  

“Then I’ll stand by him.” He said, finally giving in.

“Good. You've got a war to prepare for.” You said sweetly, with a smile. 

Jon smiled softly and nodded “I’ll ready my men, you ready yours.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ 

As you went down to observe your Knights training, you noticed one much larger than the others, dressed in black armor. Your Lord Husband. 

“Ah!” Sandor shouted as his sword clashed against the other knights.

“Well struck, Lord Clegane.” Ser Leon shouted from the observation deck. Sandor rolled his eyes at the new title the Knights had given him. 

“Ser Leon?” You said as you approached him.

“Yes, my Lady?” Ser leon asked,

“How well do you believe my Husband will fare in the war?” You asked as you watched how savagely your Husband fought.

“Your husband?” Ser Leon asked, “The Lord Clegane will fare very well. Most men need to use two hands to hold a sword that big. Forgive me but I have never seen a man fight as he does.” Ser Leon said with a hint of intimidation in his voice. 

“Neither have I.” You said with a smirk as you watched your Husband from below fight. You hated to admit it but it was making you wet, watching him brutally swing his massive sword, and land each blow. 

“Excuse me, my Lady-” Ser Leon said as he left your side to correct another Knights training.  “Ser Meryn! Do not hesitate-” You tuned out the rest of what he was saying as you watched your husband.

“Ah!” He shouted as his sword turned the knight's shield into a pile of splintered wood.

“I yield! I yield!” The knight shouted, Sandor dropped his heavy sword to the ground and walked off panting and huffing.

You smiled, biting your lip. “Very good, Husband.” You shouted down to him from the deck. 

Sandor waited for you at the bottom of the deck. Once you finally reached it you and he began to walk back to your chambers. “Those knights keep calling me Lord.” Sandor complained,

“You are a Lord now.” You said, amused by Sandor’s hesitation to the role. 

“I’m no Lord.” He said, huffing still out of breath from the training. 

“You are now that you married to me. If you didn’t wish to be then you shouldn’t have.” You said sarcastically. 

However Sandor did not find the jest funny. He pulled you into your chambers as soon as you reached them.

“Enough of that.” He barked,

You ignore his words, mesmerized by his armored body, and the wetness between your legs. “Your armor suits you well.” You said as your eyes trailed over his form. “I want to you to take me,” You commanded, “I want it hard.” Your hands grasped at the breastplate of his armor, pulling him closer.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is dark and deep. 

“All day I have been arguing, and commanding other men. All day I’ve been preparing for a war.” You said removing your shoes, and your socks. Rolling them down from your thighs, it mesmerized Sandor. “I’m frustrated, and aggravated. And now all I want is for my Husband, to fuck me hard enough I don’t have to think of any of it for just a moment.” You practically pleaded,

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, gently.

“You won’t, my love.” You said sweetly as you walked over to your bed. 

You lifted your skirts presenting your ass to him as you bent over the side of your bed. You looked back at him with sweet and longing eyes. 

Palming his hardening cock, Sandor walked over to you “Whatever my wife wishes.” He said as he landed a firm spank against your ass, making you yelp. “What you fucking get for biting me.” 

“Do it again-“ You asked, and he obeyed, “Mphm!” You moaned,

“You like that?” He asked as his hand fondled your ass, soothing the spank he landed on it just a second ago.

“Mhhhmmmmm” You bit your lip, and turned yourself onto your back, looking up at your husband.

“My wife is a dirty little bird.” He said with a smirk,

“You make her one.” You said as you began to palm at breeches.

He grabbed your wrist taking it away “Ask nicely woman, I’m not one of those knights you bark at.” 

“Please, my love-“ You begged, as he wanted you to, “fuck me- fuck me like a warrior in battle.” 

He smirked, and grabbed ahold of your dress by your neck line, “This dress has been teasing me all fucking day. Pushing your perfect tits up just begging for me to fucking rip this open.” He said as he ripped the fabric with ease. As your breasts came exposed his eyes trailed over them, “Fuck…”  He continued to rip off your gown until it was ripped clean from your body. Leaving you in your small clothes. However, that only aggravated him more, “Give me these.” He said as he ripped them off of your body, making your gasp. He looked at your small clothes, at how wet they were. “Seven fucking hells, birdie. You don’t need prepping do you? You’ve been this needy for my cock all day?” He asked, and you were so wanting that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak any words. All you could do was nod. Sandor smiled, “Show me. Show me how needy my wife is for me.” He said stepping closer, between your legs as you laid against the edge of the bed. 

You began to rock your hips, rubbing your bare cunt against his clothed erection. “Please, please, please,” You begged, so desperate you tried to press the tented bulge of his pants into you. Sandor looked down and saw the visible wet mark you were leaving on his breeches. Without warning he pulled his hardened length out, and plunged himself into you, “Ah!” You cried out, He continued to push himself in and out of you at a brutal pace. “Harder!” you commanded. He hesitated for a moment, but soon flipped you over onto your belly. Continuing his brutal pace he wrapped his arm around your throat. Putting you in a headlock as he hammered his cock into your weeping cunt. 

As he held you close to his chest, you held onto his strong arm as it was wrapped around your throat. Choking only slightly. Sandor licked and kissed at your ear as he moaned and groaned into it, “You feel too fucking good-fuck-keep clenching around me!” He commanded, as if you had a choice. It felt so good your cunt was spasming uncontrollably. “That’s it, that’s it, taking it so fucking well for me.” He encouraged you as his other hand pinched at your nipples, then roamed down towards your cunt, rubbing at your clit just as brutally as he was fucking you. He couldn’t help it, normally he’d wait for you, normally he could wait as long as he needed to but you were moaning so beautifully, and you were clenching around him so well he without any warning, spilt his seed into you. 

The feelings of the heat was everything you needed to push you over the edge. You shaked hard, as you felt yourself cum on his cock, feeling your juices flow out of you and onto him.

Sandor laid you down gently, leaning over you, he brushed your hair out of your sweaty and flushed face, “Are you alright?” He asked, out of breathe, 

You smiled up at him, “I am going to fill your belly with wine and chicken.”

Truth was, he had gone easy on you.

NOTE:

BIG SHOUT OUT TO THE GIRLS WHO GAVE ME SMUT SUGGESTIONS LMK IF YOU WANT CREDIT— I am growling and snarling behind the bars of my enclosure. Also I have such a good idea for a new fic and yall aren’t getting it for so long lol. Anyways….. enjoy..

Bambi

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[georgescitadel]

1st year of George's Citadel - a compilation of quotes from George R.R. Martin

House Targaryen

On the construction of Daenerys and the decision to include dragons in ASOIAF

On Daenerys’ thought process in Lhazarene

On Daenerys’ struggle with rule (1)

On future revelations about the house with the red door

On what led to Robert’s rebellion

On the difference between Daenerys and Aegon’s (I) approach to the throne

On Daenerys subverting gender roles

On the information provided about Rhaegar and Lyanna in ASOIAF

On the “White Saviour” complaints over Daenerys’ storyline

On Daenerys’ future return to Westeros

On Daenerys’ struggle with rule (2)

House Stark

On Sansa’s manipulation at the hands of the Small Council

On Arya and Sansa’s desire to save Ned

On what led Sandor to seek out Sansa during the Battle of Blackwater

On his regret over not further developing Sansa and Arya’s relationships with Catelyn

On what character he’d want to be like

On Ned's inadequacy in King's Landing

House Lannister

On Jaime, Tyrion and loss

On Jaime’s decision to kill Bran

On feeling conflicted over the writing of Tyrion in A Dance With Dragons

On Robert being unsuspicious of the paternity of Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen

On the key event that led Roose to align with the Lannisters

On his intention writing the Lannister POV’s

On similarities between Tywin Lannister and Walter White

House Greyjoy

On the character of Reek

Game Of Thrones

On GOT’s decision to kill off Silver

On GOT’s decision to pair Arya and Tywin up

Miscellaneous

On writing outcasts

On nihilism in ASOIAF

On unfairly hated characters

On the title of A Game Of Thrones

On Epic Fantasy

On his favourite characters in ASOIAF

On the greyest characters in ASOIAF

On unlikable protagonists

On the historical figures that inspired the women of ASOIAF

On father issues in ASOIAF

On the religions in ASOIAF

On creating foils

[spectrum-color]

So we all know GRRM, like all authors, took a lot of inspo from real life fairy tales, religion, and mythology. There are a ton of parallels but I picked out a few to put in this poll

Propaganda: Before anyone says anything, I know a lot of these are dark spins on the original. I’m not trying to say Littlefinger is a handsome prince or whatever. Also note that some of this is based on either things that haven’t happened yet but are highly likely to happen in Winds/Dream up to and including being confirmed by GRRM.

Arya and Jaqen as Hades and Persephone-the young maiden of spring is found by the lord of the underworld, who gives her an object (in this case a coin) to trick her into being trapped in the world of the dead. When she leaves home, winter comes, but when she returns, so does spring.

Sansa as Rapunzel-a princess locked in a tower by an evil sorceress (or just queen) who is spirited away by a man who wants to marry her. Strong focus on her hair as a symbol of her identity.

The Brotherhood Without Banners as Robin Hood and his Merry Men-a band of outlaws who defend the common people against corrupt authority figures. This one is really self explanatory.

Cersei as the evil queen and Margaery/Sansa/eventually Dany as Snow White-a vain, cruel women terrified of her beauty fading and being replaced by a younger woman who outshines her, so she tries to destroy her perceived rival, ultimately leading to her own downfall. The girls in Snow Whites slot are the popular choices for the identity of the YMBQ and the one Cersei is currently convinced it is.

Jaime and Brienne as Beauty and the Beast-a double subversion. Jaime is handsome and Brienne is ugly, but when they meet she’s brave and kind while he’s selfish and cruel, so it’s the beast who helps the beauty be better.

Lyanna, Rhaegar, and Robert as Helen of Troy, Paris, and Menelaus-a beautiful woman fiercely desired by two powerful men, she either runs off with or is kidnapped by a prince, leading to her (soon to be) husband retaliating by starting a tragic war.

Stannis and Shireen as Agammemon and Iphegenia-a king and commander sacrifices his daughter to the gods to win a war. Bonus if this ends up causing Stannis’ downfall.

Lady Stoneheart as Demeter-a mother wanders the land bringing destruction and misery as she searches for her daughter(s.) When her daughters return to her, spring comes.

Cersei and Jaimes children as the emperor wearing no clothes-the emperor walks around naked insisting that he’s a wearing magic invisible outfit, but everyone is afraid to tell him the truth until finally a child points out that he’s wearing nothing at all. See: everyone pretending not to notice that Cerseis children are the result of incest with her brother, and Ned finally realizing the truth when his 11 year old daughter points out that Joffrey is nothing like Robert.

Bran as the Fisher King-the Fisher King is a character from Arthurian myth. He is the guardian of the magical holy grail, protecting it so it (and power) does not fall into the hands of the unworthy. Notably, he also has a deliberating injury to his legs or groin (depending on the version.) Of course the endgame Bran of the show is a blatant rip-off of Leto II from Children of Dune, but I think the Fisher King sounds more like GRRM would do.

Dany as Moses-a leader who has prophetic visions, who after performing a miracle, frees her people from slavery and leads them on a harsh journey to a new land. Notably regarded as a critically important figure by a monotheistic religion.

[15-lizards]

Hey,

who in Westeros would wear Aesthetic dresses and those dresses you see in Pre Raphaelite paintings? (asking 'cause George has cited the Pre Raphaelites as one of his inspirations)

Pre-Raphaelite art is my religion and Edmund Leighton and John William Waterhouse are my gods

Obviously the Sansa-core of it all is very strong like the loose, long shapes, the floral motifs, the gentle haziness of it all... Sansa Pre Raphaelite stock are through the roof

Also young Cat and other riverlanders girls in general it's all very "lost in a dream" vibes if u get my drift. And hot take dare I say young Cersei at some of these...try and see my vision

[daydrcamings]

sansa's brows furrowed in confusion before letting out a nervous laugh. "uh... why are you calling me lady sansa?" not only did he somehow know her name but... he also added the title lady onto it for some weird reason. she cleared her throat. "uh... sure. it's... a pleasure to encounter you too, i guess. though i have no idea who the hell you are." sansa admitted with a shake of her head. she had no memory of the life she had once lived. no idea of the fact she had family. no idea of the title she once had. as far as she was aware; she was nothing special. nothing that would garner such a reaction to seeing her. @moonglowmuses

jorah did not know how to feel when it came to reuniting with people from his past. perhaps it depended on the person. so long as he was with daenerys, the two of them would find a way to push forward. they would find ways and reasons. when he encountered SANSA STARK, he almost could not believe his eyes. "lady sansa," he greeted, still accustomed to saying previous titles. the old gods knew that he'd called dany 'my queen' on too many occasions. he wondered if he'd ever say her name without that monicker. "it is pleasant to encounter you. i was not expecting as much." in another life... in one in which he had not been sent away by the woman's lord father... it was possible that he would have supported HER CLAIM AS THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH.

@daydrcamings

[dipperscavern]

Dippy, I am currently staring at the full moon (which looks awfully large mind you) and though of Reader who practices witchcraft and does lil rituals on full moons. Wanted to see if you could write a little something like that? If not that's cool, not sure what your religion or practice follows and I know some people may be uncomfy writing that :)

If you do write it, could you maybe do it where Bolton!reader finds an old witchy book in the library of Winterfell and takes great interest of it and Jon catches her doing a silly little ritual to keep the North safe. I just thought that would be real cute lol

- Bolton anon <333

absoloutely!! thank u for requesting <3 (this is buns forgive me)

jon snow x bolton!reader

the air of winterfells halls is hazy with smoke.

sage burns, leaving a fiery smell in its wake. one that invades the sinuses; your brain signals its scent familiar. a faint memory, the draft of the kitchens ovens’ wafting through the castle on a late summers afternoon. tip-toeing to the door, trying to steal a peek of what’s prepared for supper — being thrown out before you’re able to grasp any traces of a hint.

some practice sage cleansing, others call it folly. you weren’t allowed freedom whilst you lived in the dreadfort under your fathers rule, and being forced to start your craft late, you oft don’t know the customs of those practicing long before you.

after you took winterfell from your half-brother, you felt as if you had a personal debt, one that could be paid only by personally restoring the castle to its former glory. sure, everyone was contributing in their own way, but for you this meant sage burning & candle lighting, some odd things put in some odd places (a line of salt on the windowsills). while your people have long since known what you practice, known and understood are two different melodies — but you’re grateful regardless the song is sung.

you had been searching for a different book when you found it.

in each library of all the great houses of westeros, a record is kept of all the maesters who’ve served & for how long. works can be dated back to the maester who wrote them, and maesters who lose their chains often have their works discredited.

some may call it a silly thing, but sansa wanted to know exactly when maester luwin had been killed. if she hadn’t vouched for you when she did, you would be in a very different position. you’re inclined to heed her every request, no matter how minuscule — and you have an inkling she needs the closure.

semantics regardless, that’s how you wound up scouring the many rows of winterfells library. it wasn’t your fault, really. records and restricted are kept much too closely together.

you reached for the book front and center under the restricted title, the record of maesters tucked tightly under your arm. flipping it over, the title is sufficient in its attention grabbing.

Words of the Accursed

your interest is easily peaked. your father had always said your curiosity would get you into trouble. he was right, of course, but it’s never held any relevance to you.

once you begin to turn the pages, you quickly see why it was labeled restricted. jinxes, rituals, hundreds of ingredients used for things unheard of. you look up, eyes scanning around to see if you’re truly alone. you want to sit down and flip every page, but you’ve far too many duties unable to be abandoned. sansa counts on you.

you bite your bottom lip, thinking, and you tuck the book under your arm along with the other. indulgence is sin, and you need absolution.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

jon knows somethings up when he doesn’t see you try to climb the weirwoods.

you had always wanted to in your youth, but your fathers stern brow had always forbade it. you had promised it to be one of the first things on your schedule after your duties, but instead, he sees you moving to complete your tasks with unprecedented speed. what could have you skipping out on your fun and rushing through your work?

he finds out later that eve.

the sun sets, and you’ve been absent all day. you don’t gather for supper as the sky darkens, and jon worries until he sees a faint glow emit from the godswood. a candlelight glow.

why you waited until the absence of the sun to climb the weirwoods are beyond him, but as he notes ghosts absence, worry fades to the back of his mind & curiosity takes forefront. he’s able to slip away easily; once northmen get their first sips of ale in, drinking games begin and everything else fades from their view.

as jon traces the familiar path to the godswood, a burning question nags at him. if you’re only climbing, why is there candlelight? when it comes to climbing, even at night you and bran were unquestioned in your skill.

he approaches the entrance to find ghost laying dutifully in front of it. he stops, crouching to meet him. ghost raises his head, putting himself in reach of jon’s waiting hand. jon finds himself smiling at the direwolf.

“Is she here? Hm?” his habit of speaking to ghost shines through his brooding exterior. he isn’t offered answer — as is expected. the white wolf merely licks his chops, before moving out of reach of jon’s touch. ghost was always expressive.

jon takes the hint, sighing, and returning to his full height. he looks at ghost for a moment, for a split second wondering if he’d be allowed access to your sanctuary. it seems so, for ghost is watching the area in front of him; paying no mind to jon himself. jon steps inside.

the godswood is easily navigated when you’ve grown up playing beneath its leaves. regardless, the candlelight easily shows the way. as he gets closer, he recognizes the weirwood as the very tree his father befriended so heavily. to think, to pray, to clean his sword — lord eddard stark was known for his time spent with the gods.

but the weirwood isn’t all that’s seen, quite the opposite. you’re knelt in front of it, candles scattered around you. jon spots an unforeseen book on the bench his father used to warm, and he can’t deny the certain feeling that stirs in him at the sight. he doesn’t fully understand your practice, but you’ve always used it for good (to jon’s knowledge).

you seem to hear his footsteps, for your head turns slightly toward him. not fully, you’re entrapped with whatever you’re doing. but you still call out to him all the same.

“Ghost is at the entrance,” you say. “I mustn’t be interrupted.”

your tone misses its usual cheer. there’s no malice in it, there never is; it’s only dampened with the heaviness of concentration. part of him is relieved you take your craft seriously, and another part aches for the bright, bubbly tone you often carry. he can’t see your face from his position, but he’s sure you’ve got your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. the way you always do when you focus. “He let me through.”

“Traitor.”

his lips quirk up in a smile. you always seem to do that to him. “Can I come closer?”

you reach for things around you that jon can’t see, fiddling with them in your lap. “Watch your step. And don’t pass the salt.”

his brow furrows at your salt mention — the same salt lining every windowsill he’s come across? he’s heard of it being used to ward off bad omens, but those are only septa’s tales. aren’t they?

you weren’t joking, jon sees as he approaches. you’re sat in a circle of salt, a small glass bottle in your hands. he couldn’t tell you what was in the bottle if his life depended on it. he’s caught you as you’re finishing, putting a cork in the top and reaching for the candle nearest to you. you tip it toward the bottle, and the candle wax drips on the cork.

jon is captured by how smoothly you work, as if it’s no big deal. if he was made to perform in front of the gods, he has no doubt his hands would shake.

yours don’t. as the wax engulfs the top of the bottle, a gust of wind blows out all the candles. all except for the one in your hand, of course.

jon turns around, looking for potential threats. he finds nothing, but feels a pair of eyes on his back. when he turns around, you’re still focused on your craft. strangely, his eyes find the own of weirwood tree. he hears a crow caw in the distance. “Does that always happen?”

“Sometimes. Maybe it’s the winds greeting.” you say, moving dirt aside. you reveal a small hole, dropping the bottle in, and covering it up just as quickly.

jon ventures to step closer, and once you’re done burying your secret, you stand up yourself. you begin to step out of the salt circle, and jon offers his hand. you don’t need it, but you take it anyways. you smile at him, reaching to press a kiss to his cheek. his lashes flutter shut at the feeling.

you depart from him much quicker than jon would like, but the candles must be picked up by someone; and your lips have just rendered jon useless.

“Shouldn’t we clean this up?” he asks, and you turn to see him gesturing to your salt. you shake your head, picking up the last candle. “The rain will.”

you turn away from him to retrieve your book, and jon feels pulled — stepping closer to the weirwood. how you can have a conversation with something without lips, jon’s unsure; but it speaks. he and the tree gaze at one another, silence unbroken except by your pretty voice calling his name.

“Jon?” he hums. “You’re stepping on my salt.”