#sandor clegane x original female character

[drymushroomfics]

Fraye Hill of House Lannister

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Chapter One

   Fraye Hill was basically the ward of Jamie Lannister. On a trip, Jamie had found her as a baby on the side of a gravel road. He could've killed her but something inside of him couldn't do it. He brung her to Casterly Rock before his sister had married King Robert. They all urged him against it but he fought to have her raised with the Lannisters. She remained at Casterly Rock until Joffrey was king.

            She stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the Lannisters; all golden blonde while her hair was black as night. She was raised with privilage even though she was not a Lannister. She loved to read and Tyrion Lannister read to her a lot as a child. They got along well and she knew she could always count on him. Tywin Lannister, on the other hand was a a bit harder to get a long with. Even though he scolded her, he knew how smart she was. She took to any task he put in front of her. She read a lot about war and battle. She was great at battle tactics. She had asked if she could assist in army affairs but he refused. He had stated that ladys do not concern themselves with swords and battle. He had even tried to marry her off when had turned 16 but she refused. He was angry for a while but told her that she had until the age of 19. If she had not married by then, he would see to it that she had to do as he choosed. She had agreed reluctantly. It angered Cersei Lannister. She hated being forced into marriage and she hated even more that Tywin didn't force you right away. Cersei didn't love Robert but she loved her children.  Fraye wasn't liked by Joffrey either. He had always hated her. He called her a rat and said she belonged in the trenches. She never liked him either. He was a spoiled brat who didn't understand who lucky he was. Now that he was king and her 19th name day was approaching, Joffrey would force the worst person upon her. He knew of her agreement to Tywin and the fact that he had promised a celebration for her name day, she knew nothing good would come of it.

             Fraye was known to be devilishly beautiful and had many marriage offers but she refused all. She refused to marry anyone she didn't feel something for. Now that her name day was approaching, she'd have to choose fast. That's where Kingslanding's Guard dog came in. She had seen him as soon as she arrived. He was standing beside Joffrey's throne. They had looked at each other. Something about him intruiged her right away. She wanted to know his story and she was going to find it out.

a/n: This is my first Sandor Clegane fic. I'm using an original female character. There will be themes of rape/non-consent and violence at times. I'm open to suggestions and let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy!

[megggyeggy]

The Hound and The Wolf

Trigger warnings: Non con is involved, if you don’t like that kind of stuff then DO NOT READ. 18+ only. Minors do not engage. Some mentions of blood. Physical abuse is involved. Foul language? If that is even a trigger. I believe that is all.

Keira had heard about her father's death from Winterfell, her brother Robb wanted to go to war to avenge their father. Of course, Keira wanted revenge. But their little sisters were in King's Landing. There could have been casualties.

"Are you sure about this?" Robb questioned Keira, who was preparing her saddle bag. "No." Keira answered with raised brows as she looked over at her brother with a soft sigh, "But one thing I'm sure of..is that Sansa and Arya can't be alone in King's Landing for much longer. They don't have anyone they trust or know to look after them. I will go there." Keira reassured her younger brother with a faint smile before mounting her horse.

"I don't like this, Keira." Robb told his sister, worry written over his features. Keira's eyes softened as she looked down at her brother before shaking her head, "I will be fine. Keep Winterfell together while I'm gone." Keira spoke with a faint grin, which Robb let out a soft chuckle while nodding his head. "Of course." Robb responded with a small smile.

With that, Keira rode off to Westeros..

/// //// //// //// ////

Keira had arrived in Westeros a week later; Robb of course couldn't wait for Keira to return with their sisters. He had already started a war. Keira didn't wait to be greeted; she didn't tell the little bastard of a King that she was arriving. She simply stormed into the castle with her chin held high. She slowed her strides when she heard her sister's weak voice, "Your grace. Whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part! You know that! I beg you, plea-" King Joffrey over spoke her. "Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage." Lancel, Joffrey's scrawny little cousin paced back and forth as he spoke. "Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered."

Lancel took a deep breath before continuing to speak, "After the slaughter, The Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain." The common people began to gasp and mutter amongst themselves in terror. Keira couldn't help but smirk at the outrageous lies being told but she found it quite amusing. She continued to make slow strides, making her way forward. King Joffrey had his cross bow pointed at Sansa, "Killing you would send your brother a message." Keira could hear her sister sobbing in fear, her head hung low. Keira shifted her jaw in anger at this. "But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand." King Joffrey demanded as he placed his crossbow down.

Sansa stood immediately as her cries had quietened, her cheeks red and stained with her tears. "So, we'll have to send your brother a message some other way. Meryn," King Joffrey spoke up which Meryn stepped forward and began to approach Sansa. Keira tensed up at this, narrowing her eyes. She was like a mother wolf..waiting to attack at any given time if her pup was to be hurt. "Leave her face. I like her pretty." King Joffrey demanded as he sat down with a cruel smirk on his face.

Meryn grabbed Sansa by the shoulder and punched her as hard as he could in the gut, causing Sansa to cry out in pain. Meryn unsheathed his sword and hit Sansa in the calf with the back of his sword, causing her to stumble to the ground in pain. "My lady's over dressed. Unburden her." Ser Meryn stepped behind Sansa at King Joffrey's orders before ripping the back of her dress open. "If you want Robb Stark to hear us, you're going to have to speak louder!" Joffrey demanded with an evil glint in his eyes. Ser Meryn raised his sword and got ready to strike Sansa which caused her to scream in fear.

Keira was quick to step forward, taking slow and confident strides forward. "I got your message quite loud and clear, Your Grace." Keira spoke up, a smirk on her face when she saw the shock on Joffrey and Ser Meryn's face. As well as Joffrey's dog, The Hound. Sansa looked up at her sister with teary eyes and let out a sob of relief, hugging her sisters hip as she sobbed. Keira looked at Ser Meryn with narrowed eyes, shifting her jaw. She could hear some people murmuring, "That's Wolf Kissed!" The crowd murmured in fear. "If you want to send a message to my brother, why don't you choose someone your own size?" Keira questioned Ser Meryn, her eyes locked on his. She didn't show fear.

"Or do you enjoy beating little girls...because they can't defend themselves?" Keira smirked at Ser Meryn, his jaw clenched in anger. "Watch-" Keira backhanded Ser Meryn as hard as she could, causing him to grunt in pain..his lip split open from the harshness of the strike. "You can't hit him!" King Joffrey complained with an angry pout as he stood up now. "Kill her!" Joffrey demanded but a new voice spoke up. "What is the meaning of this?" Everyone froze, Keira turned her head to see Tyrion Lannister. "What kind of Knight beats a helpless girl?" Tyrion scoffed while Ser Meryn sheathed his sword and snarled angrily, "The kind who serves his King, Imp!"

"Careful now, we don't want to get blood all over that pretty white cloak." A new voice spoke up, an older man with black armor said with a smug look on his face. Keira smirked at Ser Meryn and hummed, looking him up and down. "Although, it would look much better with a splash of red." Keira spoke in a low threatening tone, the man whose name Keira did not know, looked her up and down with a curious gaze before smiling at her with an amused gaze. "Lady Stark," Tyrion greeted Keira with a look of surprise, Keira smiled politely at Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion." She returned the greetings before helping her sister stand.

"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with." Tyrion demanded, which The Hound was quick to walk over to Sansa and yank his cloak off his back and placed it onto her shoulders as she bowed her head in shame. He didn't seem to give Keira a second chance. "She is to be your Queen." Tyrion scolded his nephew with narrowed eyes, making his way up the steps. Joffrey glared down at his Uncle with narrowed eyes, "Have you no regard for her honor-" Joffrey scoffed, "I'm punishing her." Joffrey explained as if that explained anything. "For what crimes?!" Tyrion exclaimed with raised brows, "She did not fight her brother's battle, you halfwit!" Joffrey's voice seemed to get softer, in embarrassment perhaps. "You can't talk to me like that! The King can do as he likes!" Joffrey raised his voice near the end of his sentence.

"The Mad King did as he liked, has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?" Tyrion spoke with narrowed eyes, "No one threatens his Grace in front of the Kingsguard!" Snarled Ser Meryn as he stepped one foot closer. "I wasn't threatening the King, Ser. I am only educating my nephew. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks..Kill him." Tyrion demanded as he kept his eyes locked on his nephew. Bronn simply nodded while Keira stifled a snicker. "That was a threat. See the difference?" Tyrion exclaimed as he looked at Ser Meryn with raised brows. Ser Meryn kept awfully quiet now, a coward is always a coward. Tyrion turned and began to walk towards Sansa and Keira. "I apologize for my nephews behavior." Tyrion apologized to both the Stark Sisters.

//////

Keira had gotten settled in King's Landing, she even had her own chambers now. How exciting. Sansa wouldn't return home, and Keira wouldn't leave without her. Not only that, but Keira couldn't find her youngest sister, Arya.

"Rest for tonight, take a lavender bath. Yes? I've had your handmaid's prepare one for you." Keira told Sansa with softened eyes, kissing her sister on the forehead before taking a step back. "I'll be back in the morning, okay? You aren't alone anymore." Keira reassured her sister with caring eyes. Sansa quietly nodded as she looked at her older sister with bloodshot and teary eyes. "Thank you." Sansa whispered softly. Keira swallowed thickly as she faintly smiled and nodded, "Always, little sister." Keira spoke just above a whisper before turning and exiting the room.

Keira made her way down the corridor with her chin held high, she let out a soft sigh as she walked. However, when she turned down the corridor, she had bumped into someone. "Pardon-.." Keira said with a smile, but her smile dropped when she saw who it was. Sandor Clegane. The Hound.

Sandor stepped forward while Keira stepped backward until she was pinned against the wall. Sandor placed his hand beside her head as she looked her up and down with a smirk. She knew that look. Nothing good ever came of that look. "You think the King will be okay with the little wolf ruining his fun?" Sandor spoke in a stoic voice, his eyes holding a certain glint within. Keira forced a smile as she let out a scoff, "Oh, I'm sure he is having a tantrum as of now-" She grunted in surprised when The Hound grabbed her by the bicep, squeezing so harshly that she was sure her arm would snap in half. "The King doesn't have any use for you," Sandor said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing as he glared into her eyes.

"That means he will either kill you...or he will reward some of his men with a little wolf.." Sandor said, an evil grin forming across his features. "And I do sure hope I am one of them, little wolf." The Hound's voice dropped, leaning in closer as he took a sniff of her scent. Keira glared up at Sandor as she gritted her teeth, "Unhand me." Keira snarled angrily, which caused Sandor to cackle. "Or what? What can you do to me, little wolf?" The Hound snapped, barring his teeth. "What're you doing, Clegane?" A familiar voice spoke, Keira turned her head to see Tyrion. Oh, her hero. Keira looked back at Sandor who removed his hand from her and looked at Tyrion with a bored expression.

"Never mind it..I was only-"

"Go find a tree to piss on." Tyrion demanded, which caused Sandor to glare in the dwarf's direction before turning and walking away. Keira cleared her throat and raised her head to try and show that the interaction didn't bother her one bit. But the way her heart was pounding against her ribcage, said otherwise. "Thank you, Lord Tyrion." Keira spoke in a calm voice, looking at the dwarf with a softened direction. "That is twice you've helped my family. I'm grateful." Keira said with a faint smile, while Tyrion looked surprised that she spoke to him so kindly before his eyes softened. "Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers, Lady Stark?" Which Keira smirked down at Tyrion.

"I appreciate the offer, Lord Tyrion. But that won't be necessary." Keira spoke softly as she started to walk away. "You need to be careful, Lady Stark. The Hound wasn't wrong. You are of no use to The King nor the Queen. Who knows what The Lion will do to The Wolf away from its pack." Keira arched her brow at Tyrion's analogy. Keira looked down at her feet, pursing her lips in thought. He wasn't wrong though. She was in danger. "I'll keep that in mind, Lord Tyrion." Keira responded before walking back to her chambers.

/// /// /// /// Two Weeks Later /// /// /// ///

Keira was laying in her bed, in a deep sleep..she had a dream..a curious dream. There was a baby lion that was feasting on a corpse of a wolf. The baby lion was surrounded by corpses of wolves. Keira didn't get to finish her 'wonderful' dream because she was yanked out of her bed by her hair, she cried out in pain as she dug her nails into the gloved hand that was intertwined in her hair. She blinked fast to try and focus her sight, looking up to see Ser Meryn. Keira grunted in annoyance, "That isn't a face I wanted to wake to,"

Keira grumbled before hissing in pain when the Knight shoved her to the ground harshly, she fell to her side and didn't have time to catch herself. She was still in her nightgown slip, it was sheer and didn't do much to hide her body. She stumbled to her feet only for Ser Meryn to grab her by the hair again and drag her along, "The King has great plans for you, Wolf Kissed." Ser Meryn sneered her nickname with venom, dragging her to the throne room where King Joffrey sat, The Hound standing guard in front of him like a good dog.

Ser Meryn shoved Keira to the ground in front of the iron throne, Keira groaned in pain when her knees hit the ground. Keira looked up at King Joffrey with narrowed eyes, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Is that how your mother taught you to wake a lady?" Keira questioned which some of the crowd in the throne room had chuckled at her remark but Ser Meryn easily backhanded her which caused her lip to split open, some blood dribbling down her lip and onto the ground. Keira's head jerked to the side and she let out a moan of pain, her eyes narrowing.

"Lady Keira, if you are going to stay here in King's Landing. You will need to have some type of use. You can't just stay here without pulling your weight." King Joffrey said with a smirk, his eyes raking over her body that her sheer nightgown did nothing to cover. Keira looked up at King Joffrey and shifted her jaw to loosen it from the harsh impact. "Oh yes, my apologies." Keira snorted as she shook her head in amusement, "And how will I pull my weight?" Keira said with an amused gaze, looking up at King Joffrey who clenched his jaw.

"By doing the one thing that you were created for. Baring children." King Joffrey said with a smug look but it quickly dropped when Keira laughed loudly, "Sorry-..sorry..it's just-.." Keira snickered as she tried to stop herself from laughing, shaking her head. "You're not my type, your Grace. I'm flattered, though." Keira said with an amused gaze which it was Joffrey's turn to smirk and chuckle. "Not my children, you dumb wench." Joffrey spat as he looked around his Kingsguards and his eyes landed on The Hound. "Dog..how would you like a little breeding bitch?"

King Joffrey questioned Sandor, who smirked faintly down at Keira. His eyes raking over her body slowly before he hummed in approval. "Aye." Is all Sandor said which caused Joffrey to chuckle, looking down at Keira with an evil glint. "Alright then, you two shall be wed!" He exclaimed, while a Septon had begun to emerge from the crowd, standing next to Sandor. Keira's brows raised as she looked at Sandor with a glare before looking at the Septon. "What? Now?" Keira scoffed softly which Sandor nodded his head with a smirk. "Your father is dead. You don't have any family here aside from my beloved. No one to hand you off. You're no one special. So, no need to make it all grand." King Joffrey chuckled and gestured his hand towards Keira which Ser Meryn grabbed Keira by the hair and yanked her to her feet.

Ser Meryn dragged Keria to Sandor and the Septon, shoving her into Sandor's chest who caught her roughly with a stoic expression, staring down at her with narrowed eyes. Although, within his eyes-..she could see the amusement.

///// ////// ///// ////

Keira was a married woman now-..or she officially will be when she and Sandor consummate. Which is why Sandor was dragging her roughly by the arm to Keira's chambers. He shoved her inside and she just barely caught herself, gasping softly. Keira turned to glare at Sandor as she gritted her teeth. "If you think I will lay a fucking hand on you-" Keira was backhanded harshly, her head jerking to the side and she had to grab ahold of her bedpost to keep herself from falling. Keira cupped her cheek as she looked at Sandor with wide eyes who looked at her with a cruel smirk.

"Keep talking, girl and I will fuck you bloody." Sandor warned as he began to approach Keira who quickly climbed onto the bed to try and avoid the man. Sandor patiently began to remove his buckskin belt, not bothering to remove his armor.

"I will not let you do this, you fucking imbecile!" Keira snarled only to yelp in surprise when Sandor grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her towards him. "I warned you, little wolf." Sandor said as he grabbed Keira by the shoulder and tossed her onto her stomach on the bed. Keira reached behind her and shoved her hand against Sandor's armored chest. "Don't fucking touch me!" Keira snarled, barring her teeth like a cornered animal. Sandor simply laughed as he looked down at her with an amused gaze.

"What will you do, little wolf?" Sandor questioned in amusement as he shoved his pants down his legs before yanking the skirt of Keira's nightgown over her hips, he let out a hum of approval at the sight of her pussy. "Freshly shaved, it's as if you knew." Sandor proved with a smug smirk, grabbing Keira's arms and pinning them behind her back harshly. Keira hissed in pain, and she could feel angry tears threatening to spill. "Please, Ser!-"

"Ser?! I am no Ser! I am a dog, remember?!" Sandor raised his voice now; it was filled with venom. "And you are my little wolf. A little breeding bitch." Sandor said with a smirk, even though he truthfully didn't care to have children. That's not why he was doing this. It was for the pleasure. Hot and angry tears rolled down Keira's cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly. "Please, don-..Ah!" Keira's pleads were interrupted when she felt Sandor pushing the head of his cock into her cunt. She wished she could say she was dry as a desert, but that would be a lie.

"Seven hells," Sandor growled through gritted teeth when the woman's walls clenched around his cock. He grunted softly as he sheathed himself deep inside of her, balls deep. Keira couldn't stop the moan that escaped her. Sandor raised his brow and smirked widely, "Are you enjoying this, little wolf?" The Hound mocked her, which caused Keira to glare back at him, tears continuing to roll down her cheeks. "Fuck you." Keira snarled which Sandor wiggled his hips inside of her, "You are." Sandor responded with a wide and cruel grin.

Sandor gripped Keira by both of her forearms and began to pull her back against his hips, pounding into her. The movement made the bed shake, the bedpost clanging against the wall with each thrust. Moans were being dragged out of Keira's mouth as she screwed her eyes shut, Sandor grunted along with each thrust. "What would your brother think?” Sandor mocked her as he thrusted harshly into her, drawing a sob of a moan out of the woman. “Hell, what would your father think? Perhaps he is looking upon you now, seeing you clenching your cunt around my cock.” Sandor continued with mocking Keira.

Keira cried out softly as she screwed her eyes shut even tighter, Sandor thrusted even harder into her which Keira could feel the tip of Sandor’s cock surely bruising her cervix. The sudden pain caused her body to jolt forward which caused Sandor to snarl, “Where do you think you’re going? Stay right here, little wolf.” Sandor chuckled out as he gripped her forearms even tighter as he pounded into her.

Keira could feel her stomach twisting and tightening, she felt the way her insides warmed up. Keira let out a loud and drawn out moan when she came around Sandor’s cock. Sandor let out a breathy laugh as he continues with his harsh and quick thrusts. Until he sheathed himself deep inside her, releasing his sperm deep inside of her. Keira could feel Sandor’s thick cock throbbing from inside of her as he emptied himself within her. Sandor pat Keira’s ass before leaning down, whispering into her ear.

“What a good bitch..you’re a natural.” Sandor chuckled out as he pulled himself out of her and he grabbed a cloth, wiping himself off before tossing the dirtied cloth onto the bed beside Keira. “Clean yourself up.” He said in a stoic tone before pulling his pants up. Keira glared at Sandor before sitting up with a wince and she smacked Sandor across the face. Sandor and Keira both seemed to freeze, staring at one another. Both stunned that she had done so. Sandor grabbed Keira by the jaw, yanking her close to him. “You only get one of those. Next time, I’ll fuck your skull.” Sandor warned Keira with narrowed eyes, gritting his teeth angrily before shoving her back onto the bed harshly.

Sandor then exited the room, leaving Keira to clean herself and comfort herself. Keira grabbed the dirtied cloth with a scowl, glaring down at it as she squeezed it in her fist with a snarl. She took a deep breath as she looked at the door that Sandor had exited from, tears flowing down her cheeks before she inhaled sharply. “Winter is coming.” Keira whispered softly as she clenched her jaw before she began to clean herself.

[houndofsevenhells]

“Of Septons and Hounds” (Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character)

SUMMARY — A recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now finds herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, develops a strange relationship with the fearsome Hound. As the ten year long summer comes to an end, she tries to fight for the man she really wants, while dodging her good-brother's schemes to see her wed yet another elderly lord.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is my first ever work in this fandom, I hope I did my favourite fearsome Hound justice. English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes that is my fault alone. Oh, and there’s also smut.

WORD COUNT — 3,391

Masterlist

The ten year long summer was coming to an end. I could feel it in my bones. Casterly Rock still stood tall and strong, as I suspected it would for another eight thousand years, but everything else around me was changing.

I was savouring a rare moment of peace and hid from the world in the alcove of the rose gardens. The round-petalled, sunset-coloured variety that grew here were my favourite, though of course the crimson ones planted at the very centre were the most magnificent. My good-brother Ser Damion once told me they were the pride and joy of Lady Joanna, and knowing his cousin Tywin I could certainly see why the gardeners worked so hard to keep these blooming all summer long.

As the recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now found herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, I hid in these gardens quite often–mostly to escape my good-brother’s schemes. One should hope his duties as the castellan of the Rock would have kept him busier…

I breathed deeply and felt my head swimming from the sweet scent of the roses. Somehow I knew the crimson ones smelled stronger as of late. I was sure they spoke of impending autumn winds. They had developed a startling, imposing scent that permeated almost the entirety of the gardens and it almost seemed like the flowers wanted to shine just one last time before they would inevitably wilt. Like the one last feast one would throw just before the first snowstorms.

“Well, then.” Suddenly, strong hands grasped my shoulders and I shot up from the bench I was resting on.

I was met with the half-burned face of Sandor Clegane; his ruined lips twisted in a mockery of a smile and his imposing frame blocking the sun from my view completely. 

“Oh. It’s you.” I was clearly relieved.

No less confused than before, Sandor took a step closer.

“Who did you think it was?” he asked. His voice was broken glass, crunching under infantry iron boots. 

“My brother,” I confessed easily. “He is getting fatter on his castellan purse, but is almost as tall as you, Ser Clegane.”

Immediately, Sandor snarled at the title, his grey eyes full of hate. But I stood there proudly, daring him to scold a high-born lady in public. I was riling him up and he knew it, but he let me all the same. 

“Come.” His command was short; an order a captain of the guard would throw at a fellow soldier.

“Is that any way to talk to a lady, Clegane?”

He said nothing to that, just sent me another angry look over his shoulder and then kept walking. I stifled a laugh.

Unlike all those other guards prancing around the Rock in their gold shiny armours, Sandor’s black ring mail and boiled leather seemed to be quelling the sunshine around him.

Unable to help myself, I followed him inside the castle.

His long legs carried him quite a distance further and soon enough I found myself trotting behind him like an ungraceful pony.

“Is that any way for a lady to walk?” he grumbled, though there was mirth in those angry eyes and I grinned as soon as I saw it.

“Is that a jape I hear, Clegane? By the gods, it–” But the rest of that remark died in my throat as he pulled me into a dark corridor that ended with a spiral staircase. He went down and again, I followed.

“Where are we?” I inquired.

“Underneath the barracks.” His rasping voice drifted up to me. Once more, he was leading.

“Lovely,” I sighed and then simply kept following.

At the end of the staircase, there was an old door with an even older-looking lock, to which Sandor for some inexplicable reason produced a rust-covered key. He unlocked the door and it soon became apparent he must have been the first one to do it in quite a while. It took a formidable power to open it at all. I looked at how his muscles bulged under the dark sleeves of his tunic and against my better judgement I did not stop looking until he caught me in the act. 

Without any niceties, Sandor took my hand and led me through the narrow passage, then firmly shut the door behind us; the rusty hinges straining under the task.

“I do appreciate the effort, Clegane, but if I should have to perish, I’d rather not do it under some aimless old stone that decides to drop on my head with–”

“You talk too much, woman.”

He grabbed me and soon my back was pressed against the cold stone wall. I did not necessarily mind. This was what I came there for; it was what I wanted and what Sandor kept giving me for the past year and a half.

I reached out blindly and when my hands found his face I pulled him closer for a kiss. He wouldn’t reciprocate at first, this much I knew, because such was our game. He would let me sense his humours and somehow through a simple touch and kiss I would read him like a book. I realised he would need it rough today and my body shivered with anticipation. I deepened the kiss and finally Sandor moved closer and started to unlace his breeches.

There was scarcely any light source in the old dungeon and I could barely see a thing. Regretful, giving my particular weakness for the sight of the man. Because Sandor was everything I could ever want from a man, even though he would never let me say it out loud. 

But the noose around my neck was tightening. With the summer ending and Her Grace slowly packing to move back to King’s Landing with the children, I knew the proper mourning period after my late husband’s passing was over. As I had no remaining male relatives, Ser Damion Lannister was in charge of any dowry my puny cousin Crakehall branch could offer. Soon, the evil beast that married my sister would force me to wed once more–undoubtedly to another evil beast of his choosing.

“You are shaking, my lady.” The familiar raspy voice brought me back. I sighed because I enjoyed him calling me a lady quite as much as he liked to be called “ser”.

“It’s cold in here.”

“Aye.” He reached under my skirts and I gasped once he pulled down my smallclothes. “So let me make you warmer.”

Another sigh turned into a moan when he put two fingers inside me and curled them. He was not being rough to be cruel, but because he knew I could not stand a slow and tedious prelude.

“So wet,” he rasped into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Were you thinking of me all day?”

I could not smell the wine on him this time and I enjoyed the thought that he wanted to experience me sober. I always liked it better when he was not drinking and I thought the incentive for him was that our time together would last longer.

“Actually no, I–” I exhaled and let out a surprised chuckle as he grabbed my thigh firmly to lift up my leg. I rested it against his hip and he added another finger inside me–this time more smoothly.

“Cease your prattling, woman,” he grunted. “Does the dark frighten you so much? Or the creature you find yourself in the dark with?”

I let out another moan as his teeth nibbled at my neck. 

The sensations were overwhelming. The stone wall was cold against my back, and the dank dungeon was not something I would call remotely romantic–it smelled of damp earth and rot, and to be truthful after a day of training in the yard, Sandor smelled no better.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see him sneering at me.

“Where in the seven hells are you?” He leaned in closer and as he replaced his fingers with his cock, I steadied myself by clutching his arms. “Because you sure ain’t here with me.”

“I am… thinking,” I whispered and it gave him a pretence to claim another kiss from my lips. 

He knew me too well; such was the consequence of two souls connecting the way we have been doing. At first our dalliance was just a mutual understanding–but now it expanded and grew like a root, and despite our better judgement, we started to get to know one another.

“Stop thinking so much, woman,” he grumbled, his voice surely hoarse from yelling at incompetent recruits through all of the morrow. “Look at me. Look at me.”

I finally looked up and saw the faint outline of his face. His eyes no longer resentful, now they glinted with lust. I smiled as I understood the object of that lust was me. 

“Go on then,” I mustered my best commanding tone and moaned as he squeezed my thigh harder in return.

The rough wall behind me, the strong arms I was clutching and Sandor’s hardness inside me all brought me back from whatever hell my mind had wandered to and I set my heart on the now. That is why we worked so well, I supposed. His roughness and my need for it paired together beautifully.

We were both close, I could feel it. Sandor let out a groan and I made myself tighten around him in response. I wished the moment could last longer, but I knew deep down all things that exist in darkness and privacy must one day come out to light.

I reached my peak first and nearly cried out–but Sandor was faster. He captured my lips in another harsh kiss, spilling inside me. I felt how his body tensed, pressed up against me. Still seeing stars, I let him release my leg back down, though I appreciated him still holding me close. I swore under my breath at how unsteady I felt and I heard Sandor chuckle. An oddly comforting thing, that disembodied rough chuckle in the dark. 

I pulled up my smallclothes and straightened my skirts, wincing at the mess that spilled from me. I did not care if his seed quickened, though. Thankfully I was no longer a maiden and knew my sums better than I used to. My monthly blood was still far away and I had more time to take precautions.

My release did make everything better, but I still was not finished with my game of teasing the bull.

“When was the last time you took a bath, Sandor?”

I could not really see it, but I knew his brows were tightly pinched together.

“Last week, I think. Why? Does this dog’s stink offend your ladyship?”

“No,” I chuckle. “Have no fear. I know who you are and I still enjoy your company.”

That, I gathered, stunned him more than a blow to the head could. I heard his clothes rustle. He was putting himself back in order, too.

“The smell of blood and sweat,” he grunted. “Some twisted tastes you have, woman.”

I put my hands in front of me and grabbed at his tunic to pull him closer. This time, he obeyed. I pressed myself against him and I could feel his breath quickening.

“Some twisted tastes, indeed,” I hummed and moved to rest my cheek against his chest. “But I wish we could go somewhere else. Somewhere far away from Casterly Rock.”

Somewhere far away from my sister’s husband, is what I truly wished to say and Sandor knew it well. I could feel him stirring uncomfortably, undoubtedly unsure what to say to that. I knew then that I let myself say too much.

“Well, we’ve got that. The two of us here, nice and private, as the lady commands.”

“Very amusing.”

“I do try.”

His hands moved from my backside then and I felt his fingers in my hair. True to the word he had once given, he was doing his best not to make too much of a mess of my braid. But I knew he liked my hair. He remarked on it often.

We were quiet then, just the two of us in that small dungeon under the barracks of Castle Casterly, and it was as close to peaceful as I have ever felt. I knew I was trying to hold on to this moment just a little bit longer, to somehow keep it from ending. 

To my surprise, it was Sandor that broke our silence this time:

“I do not want to let you go yet.”

I knew what it meant, for him to speak his mind like that. I was fast to answer so as not to keep him in suspension:

“Nor I you.”

I wanted to say more; to say I wished he were mine and mine alone. But that would be foolish. I knew it could never be. I started to trace soothing circles on his back instead; something I knew he enjoyed very much.

After a moment, he spoke again, though his voice was less hoarse now:

“And if I said… I am yours as you are mine?”

The pang of emotion in my chest was as pleasant as it was scary.

“I would say that is all I want.” I placed my palm against his scarred cheek and felt him lean into the touch. “I want you,” I assure him. “I do not wish to be away from you. I do not wish to be married to a lord or a hedge knight or the first drunk who wins against Damion at cards. I want…”

But then the moment faded away and Sandor brought us back to reality:

“What we want doesn’t matter.”

We have been here before, I realised. This was not the first time when both of us wanted the same, but neither believed we could truly take it.

“You know I am no knight. No lord. I’m just their creature, I’m the Hound.”

“Do not say that.”

“But that’s the truth,” he replied, his voice harsh and grating like knives on stone. “I have killed more men than I could even remember. I’m scarred and ugly and hard to look at. You would not be getting a man, you would be getting a beast.”

I knew what he was doing, what he was trying to do. But this time, somehow, I did not want to cower before my better judgement. Winter was coming and I was growing tired.

“Well, fortunately I am good with wild creatures,” I declared in my best lady-like tone. “If I could make your Stranger eat my apple offerings, I am certain you are no more work than that.”

He went silent and even in the dim lighting of the dungeon I could see the conflict in his face.

“Never had a woman like you, with manners and all. I was never meant for any court. If we give in, you’d be wed to a brute.”

I exhaled and decided then that if after a decade the seasons were changing, I deserved a change as well. I have decided then to break the spell of misfortune with a jape and took a step closer to sniff at his neck.

“Well, as your lady wife I could at least make you bathe more often. If that is not a credit to my taming skills, I do not know what would be.”

He laughed at that and even though his laughter would always be short-lived, I still took that as a victory.

“Fuck the court then, eh?” he said and gently held my face in his rough, calloused hands. 

“Fuck the court,” I said sternly, and I knew my swearing always took him by surprise, “and fuck their dances, and fuck their hedge knights. May they all dance themselves off the cliffs of Casterly Rock! And may Ser Damion die of a bloody flux. I hope it is painful.”

“Aye,” Sandor chuckled again and kissed the top of my head. “It is. But do not let them hear you cast your spells. I will do much, but I will not save you from a burning pyre.”

It would not matter if they burned me to ash tomorrow for true. Today I finally had hope.

“I want to be your wife,” I declared. “I want them all to know who protects me. I know you will protect me. They are all afraid of you and–”

“Look at me,” he ordered and I did so at once. “You say this… And you say this knowing what I am? Knowing why they are all afraid?”

“I do not care,” I replied, now close to tears from thinking he would not agree after all. “My good-brother is in charge of my money and in charge of me. I have nothing of my own, no reputation, no lands or keep. Truth be told, you are marrying down, Sandor.”

He laughed at that and I cherished the sound. I adored making the mask fall.

“You are taking advantage of me, woman, is that it?” he rasped, though now his voice lacked all that anger. He seemed almost happy.

“Yes, Sandor Clegane,” I grinned. “I have cast my spells and ensnared you in my power. All of our combined riches of one dragon and two stags shall get us as far as… The Trident, most likely. After that we shall both be whores, but we shall be very happy, indeed.”

“Careful, woman,” he snarled, though his eyes showed no anger.

“Pardon me, my lord.” I gave him my best curtsy.

That earned me a hard squeeze of my backside, but I had no regrets.

“Do you have no fears, then?” he rasped, his hand playing with my hair again. “None at all?”

“Well, I do not particularly care for spiders…”

“By the gods, woman! About me, I meant.”

“Then, no.” My grin grew wider. “You are many things, but you are not a monster, Sandor. I know I can believe your words if you say you would not hurt me.”

“Never.” He rushed to answer this and his hands immediately tightened around my waist. “But I will hurt anyone around you if I need to keep you safe. I will keep you safe, the rest of them can fucking burn.”

“Then I shall dance on the ashes,” I japed again, though my heart threatened to burst out of my chest from happiness. “Come then. Let us find some drunk Septon, I hear your Lord Tyrion knows a few.”

Sandor chuckled and took me by the hand to lead us out of the dungeon.

“He is your cousin.”

“Only by marriage. Remember, I am a Crakehall. Wild boars and lions are not exactly friendly.”

“And hounds are? You are mad.”

“You better wed me fast, then. Such a grand prospect shall not wait forever. But after that, I never want to see or hear the name ‘Lannister’ ever again. ”

We stopped on our way up the stairs and to my astonishment Sandor kissed me right then and there. He looked me in the eye, solemn as always, no doubt waiting for me to change my mind. But I would not. Not when he had shown me what happiness tasted like.

“What is it?” I asked. 

“This may be the most foolish thing I have ever done,” he grumbled. “And that’s saying something.”

I took his hands in mine and shook my head, smiling in a way I hoped was encouraging and not entirely deranged from joy. 

“I am the unreasonable one, Sandor. You shall be my reasonable husband that tames my wicked nature, remember?”

“Am I now?” He smirked. “So you do take me for a husband? I ain’t even civilised enough to know the… vows.”

“Neither does the Septon, if we get one drunk enough to agree to wed us.”

“Nothing will change your mind, then?”

“Nothing shall save you now from this predicament. The hounds are out, the boars are slain, the… I do seem to have run out of house sigils for my japes, but you do know my meaning, I hope?”

“Aye,” he said and this time he seemed to have believed me. “That I do, woman. Now, let us get you that Septon so that I can bed you long and proper.”

[ao3feed-tywin]

Gendry's Son | Male Reader X Harem

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cgpi4zK

by Hollunk

After a 30 year reign, Y/n Baratheon has fallen on the field of battle. Facing the final Blackfyre Rebellion. Taking the final Blackfyre down with him. But he refuses to give in to death, and is reborn in the body of the supposed second son of Robert Baratheon, Orys Baratheon.

Words: 3623, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage

Categories: F/M

Characters: Sansa Stark, Arianne Martell, Elia Sand, Daenerys Targaryen, Margaery Tyrell, Myrcella Baratheon, Original Female Character(s), Reader, Ashara Dayne, Jeyne Westerling Stark, Cersei Lannister, Robert Baratheon, Joffrey Baratheon, Tommen Baratheon, Ned Stark, Tywin Lannister, Catelyn Tully Stark, Brandon Stark, Bran Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Gendry (A Song of Ice and Fire), Arya Stark, Benjen Stark, Jon Arryn, Varys (A Song of Ice and Fire), Petyr Baelish, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Olenna Tyrell, Bronn (A Song of Ice and Fire), Sandor Clegane, Brienne of Tarth, Thoros of Myr (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Relationships: Sansa Stark/Original Male Character(s), Arianne Martell/Original Male Character(s), Elia Sand/Original Male Character(s), Daenerys Targaryen/Original Male Character(s), Margaery Tyrell/Original Male Character(s), Myrcella Baratheon/Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Ashara Dayne/Original Male Character(s), Jeyne Westerling/Original Male Character(s), Catelyn Tully Stark/Original Male Character(s), Cersei Lannister/Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Aunt/Nephew Incest, Sibling Incest, Shameless Smut, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Man, Westeros (A Song of Ice and Fire), Essos (A Song of Ice and Fire), Greyjoy Rebellion | Balon Greyjoy's Rebellion Against the Iron Throne, Parent/Child Incest

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cgpi4zK

[gothhippiecrafts]

Roleplay/Writing Partner wanted

Hello, I'm currently on here looking for someone to roleplay/write with casually. Before I carry on for to long let's get a firm boundary addressed, I only wish to write with people 21+ years old. If you are not 21 years old or older please do not message me. Thank you.

When it comes to genre and plot I tend to lean towards slow burn romances, and I do prefer working in past settings or magical modern settings. I also have a few fandoms I am craving, but if I'm being honest I know their not everyone's cup of tea and will not take offense if you are not interested in them. I also enjoy original content hashed out between me and my partner. I also adore OOC conversation, so many friendships have come from roleplaying. I adore this. Another point is I am on eastern time and work morning shifts.

What sort of characters do I play? I prefer one of my mains to be a female role. But I'm completely fine also playing a two mains at once and the second can be my partner's preference. I am looking for someone who is open enough to write as both male and female characters, trans characters are also welcome. OCs are welcome and I'm willing to play canons for you to ship them with, I do ask the same in return.

Here is a list of my fandoms and the OCs I have for them.

🧡Game of Thrones: I have a OC I ship with Sandor Clegane (The Hound), her name is Dawn Baratheon, she is the sister to Robert Baratheon. She unfortunately has issues with her arranged husbands passing away in odd ways and ends up in the Red Keep more often than not.

🖤Naruto: Music Hatake (Muse), I ship her with Master Jiraiya. She is the cousin of Kakashi Hatake. Her ninjutsu is a plant based, she controls chakra through her feet and can use this technique to make seeds grow and use the plants during battle.

🧡Supernatural: Clementine Jones, I would ship her with John Winchester or Castiel. She is a young woman who has become a solo hunter. Using a cross road demon to make a deal to get knowledge from. Fortunately for her she made a solid deal that has yet been cashed in. This naturally makes the demon she made the deal with angry.

🖤 Hellboy: Abyzou, I ship her with Hellboy, she is a lava demon with the same lore of the actual demon I named her after. Her curse involves infertility and child mortality.

🧡X-Men/Deadpool: My OCs for this fandom are not finished because I've never wrote with them. I would be open to shipping with Hank McCoy (Beast), Cable, or Logan (Wolverine)

🖤Star Wars: Rey x Kylo Ren (Ben Solo), I love writing as Rey for this. I'm also open to making a OC for this fandom too.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Kay Shultz, a once slayer turned into a vampire who was given a soul by her watcher. I ship her with Spike (William)

If interested in any of this, or if you have questions PM🖤

[shinyasahalo]

Top 60 AO3 TV/Streaming Dua Ships (Sept. 11, 2024)

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[cleganegirl]

Currently working on Chapter 6 of Take Me To Church...

Have you ever wondered what it would be like waking up next to a sleepy bed haired Sandor?

What his reaction would be to you wearing his colours? Or his sigil? 

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Flames Led Me To You (Beric Dondarrion x Priestess! Reader) | NSFW 18+

Beric Dondarrion x Priestess! reader (There is barely anything on my mans Beric so here is a little something for my Beric loves)

I don’t own any of the plots or characters of ASOIAF/GOT that all belongs to George R. R. Martin

Jon Snow, Tormund Giantsbane, Sandor Clegane, Davos Seaworth x Priestess! reader (platonic)

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 OR DO NOT LIKE SMUT. THIS CONTRAINS SEXUAL CONTENT THAT IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK

Prompt: The Long Night is here and Winterfell is preparing for the battle between the living and the dead. The prophecy and visions that carried Y/N to this moment are unfolding. A journey that lasted years is coming to an end, which includes the man she grew to love despite the odds against them. What started as a simple vision in the flames gave birth to a feeling neither thought they would endure.

Warnings: angst, fluff,  soft SMUT, NSFW 18+ (oral-Female and male recieving, vag-penatration intercourse), allusions to death which eventually happens at the end. Might make you cry idk. nsfw content starts below the **

Word count:  7567

dialogue in bold is High Valyrian, anything in italics are flashbacks.

Darkness loomed over the Northern castle that was Winterfell. Snow covered the ground and the only light that danced around the castle walls were the flames of the touchers on every corner. It was quiet all through out the large fortress, those who were fighting in the battle to come decided to spend their final hours sleeping, eating, and in the comfort of their friends and family. While everyone was gathered in the Great Hall or secluded in their quarters, a woman in red stood on one of the many terraces overlooking the castle grounds. Her face was blank and hidden by the silk read cloak, eyes starting straight ahead into the night. The Northmen would look at her strangely due to her attire which only consisted of a thin blood-red silk dress, a scarf with a hood, and a steel necklace that encased a glowing amber amulet, but the cold didn’t bother the woman. 

Originating from the small city of Asshai in Essos, Y/N could barely recall her life before the Lord of Light. Father never in the picture and mother who worked in a brothel, the young woman was sold into slavery before she even could learn how to walk. It took years to escape and when she finally did was when she found justice and peace by surrendering herself to the one true God, R’hllor. She gave up her life to serving Him, becoming a Red Priestess who preached His messaged and traveled to wherever the visions in the flames sent her. It took years for her to master the arts of magic that the Lord bestowed on her, but she was rewarded when the time came each time.

It was in her journey of serving Him that brought her to the continent of Westeros where following the Lord of Light was rare and unheard of. For those of Westerosi culture, followers of R’hllor were seen as fanatics and looked down upon for their faith. It was here where she met fellow Red Priestess Melisandre and became an advisor to the Prince That Was Promised, Stannis Baratheon. 

There were times where the young priestess questioned the actions she and Melisandre performed. Despite this, she knew it was what was needed of the Lord of Light. Melisandre was the more assertive of the two and carried out whatever had to be done in order to secure Stannis’s claim to the Iron Throne and lead him to victory. Y/N wasn’t present for the King’s downfall. When the Lord sent her and Melisandre to the Riverlands, the flames told her to stay with the Brotherhood without Banners although she could not understand why just yet. 

The silence around her was interrupted by soft footsteps approaching. The woman never flinched when the figure walking toward her stood beside her and a hand made its way onto her lower back. “You’re alive,” her soft voice spoke without a waver. A deep chuckle was heard and Y/N slowly turned to the side where she faced the man with one eye.

“You knew I would be,” Beric replied with a smile. She didn’t return the smile, sadness consuming her and keeping her expression blank.

“And Thoros.” The man’s face fell, his gaze consorting to one of pain which was all she needed to know. Looking back towards the dark night she whispered,  “He served his purpose and the Lord called him home.” 

“Aye,” Beric muttered, “He did.” 

“He’ll be calling us too tonight.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she ignored it. Silence filled the area once more, and Y/N felt her eyes close as her mind began to reply the memories and visions leading to this moment. Her arrival in Westeros, the years with Stannis and Melisandre, and the years with Beric, Thoros and the Brotherhood. It was surreal to see how the journey her Lord had given her would end with this night. It was not surprising to her and the flames showed it months before. While she was prepared to meet Him and fulfill the divine purpose he gave her, Y/N was heartbroken by the fact Beric would be joining her.

Love was a concept Y/N avoided with her faith. She was devoted to R’hllor and there was always the feeling of knowing her time of meeting him would be at any moment. Loving someone brought complications, and Y/N cursed at herself when she realized she was falling in love with the heroic warrior. 

“You remember the day we met?” his voice spoke after several minutes of silence. The memory of that day made her lips curl slightly, a soft chuckle releasing from her.

“How could I not,” was her reply, “you wouldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

The journey to the Riverlands with Melisandre was long and gave Y/N relief when they finally arrived. They were confronted with Thoros of Myr, who Y/N had remembered was sent by the High Priest to covert King Robert Baratheon over to the Lord of Light but had failed. She stayed silent while the two conversed, her eyes glancing to the men behind Thoros every often. She spotted a small girl, dressed like a boy, watching the two closely and Y/N felt a strong aura from the young girl. Something was calling of her, but it was neither the place nor time.

Thoros led the two women to a hidden cave surrounded by the woods, the fire lighting the way allowing them to see. A lone man was seated by a fire and he turned around at the sound of them approaching. Y/N stood beside Melisandre, and removed her red hood at the same times she did allowing her face to be fully revealed to man in front of her. 

She was shocked when her eyes ran over his figure. He was missing an eye and had scars all along his neck and chest from where she could see skin. 

“Forgive my manners,” he spoke, “I don’t see many ladies these days.”

“Lucky for the ladies,” Thoros commented all while the man and Melisandre stared at each other. It was when his eye connected with Y/N’s that she felt her heart stop. She saw this man in the flames. Fighting an enemy north of the Wall although that moment would not happen any time soon. Her entire being felt drawn to him and it was in this moment Y/N knew the Lord of Light and led her to the one-eyed man.

His gaze stayed on her while Melisandre approached him. The only time he broke the stare was when the older woman was directly in front of him. Y/N slowly walked to them which had his eye flicker to her every few seconds. Melisandre looked at him amazed by his condition, realizing he had been fated with death on more than one occasion.

“How many times has the Lord brought him back,” she questioned Thoros leaving Y/N in shock. Up close she was able to see the fatal blows and shared the same amazement as the woman beside her. 

“Six.”

“That’s not possible,” Y/N whispered, her hand coming up to brush across the area where the man was missing an eye. He kept his vision on her, watching her every move and Y/N remained stoic under his stare. 

“The Lord has smiled upon me.”

“You should not have this power,” Melisandre accused which made Thoros smirk by the accusation.

“I have no power. I ask the Lord for His favor, and He responds as He will.” It went quiet in the cave after he spoke this. Y/N’s hand left the man’s face, but the two held eye contact while Melisandre turned to look at Thoros who was now sitting on a log by the fire. The older man went on a rant about his failures as a priest and being a drunk. Y/N broke the stare between her and the man to look at Thoros who continued to speak about his questioning of the Gods and stories. She felt shock through her once more when he revealed the first death of the man beside her. 

“I knelt beside his cold body and said the old words--not because I believed in them. He was my friend and he was dead. They were the only words I believed, and for the first time in my life the Lord replied.”  Thoros raised from the log, and looked toward the man he spoke of, “Beric’s eyes opened and I knew the truth, our God is the one, true God. And all men must serve Him.”

Y/N’s eyes connected with his lone once more. Never had she thought the Lord would bring back a man from the dead multiple times yet here this man, Beric, stood alive and in the flesh having been to the other side. 

“You’ve been to the other side,” Melisandre spoke the words the young woman had thought. Beric looked at her perplexed and almost offended expression.

“The other side?” he repeated, “There is no ‘other’ side. I have been to the darkneess, My Lady.” he took a pace towards them, keeping his gaze on Melisandre who stood stoic. “He sent you to us for a reason.”

A smirk appeared on the woman’s face, “You have someone He needs.” Beric’s eye traveled to the smaller woman in red.

“And you?” he voiced, “He sent you to us for a different reason I assume.” Y/N cocked her head slightly up, eyes narrowing at the older man.

“Yes, and we will find that reason soon enough.”

It had been years since that day and Y/N could recall every moment since she met the one-eyed man. His laugh had brought her out of the memory playing in her head. “Could you blame me,” he said, “It had been so long since I was in the presence of ladies and here was the most beautiful one in all of Westeros and Essos standing in front of me.” His words made her scoff.

“Stop trying to flatter me, Beric. You know it would never work.”

“You know I’ve always been one for a challenge.” He smirked back at her, although she couldn’t see it. She continued to avoid his stare, but Beric had other ideas and slowly brought the hand on her back to around her waist so he could gently turn her to him. Their chests pressed against each other and the taller man glanced down at the smaller woman in his arms. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, her hood shielding her face from the soft winds. “We’ve had quite the journey haven’t we?”

“We have,” she replied softly.

“I remember the Stark girl being so angry by your presence after we had just given the other woman her friend.” The memory made the woman chuckle. 

“She came around thought didn’t she. After all, I had to stay as a reminder in order for her to run away and continue the journey she was destined for.”

“And that destiny will be revealed tonight.” The smile fell from her lips, face consorting with sadness when she looked away from the man. Beric let out a sigh, “All those years leading up to this night. It’s a shame we won’t have anymore nights to come.” He spoke truthfully, but that didn’t mean it hurt all the less. Y/N’s eyes glossed over and she felt herself looking away from the man she grew to love. The man who made her break her vow. 

“I wish I could do more--.” 

“You’ve done all that you could.,” he cut her off bringing her chin up to look at him, “You have served our Lord well, and you will be rewarded by Him for your service.

“You dying doesn’t feel like a reward,” her voice wavered, “I was ready to go, but not watch you before it happens.” A lone tear escaped her eye when she closed them and she felt his thumb reach up to brush it away. Touch lingering on her skin when he brought it back down to trace her bottom lip. 

“I knew this would happen,” there was a crack in her tone, “This is why I told myself to never love anyone. It would only bring me pain.” Beric brought his lips to her forehead while she clutched onto his clothes. In the time they spent together, Y/N was very stoic when it came to expressing her emotions. She never really cried and when she did it would be away from prying eyes. The woman wouldn’t speak verbally of her affections toward him, but Beric knew from her lingering gazes and a smile reserved for only him that she felt returned the feelings he grew toward her. 

Beric realized his love for Y/N shortly after the two met. It was hard for him not too, she was breathtakingly beautiful who shared the same faith as him and knew how to calm his nerves whenever they were faced with a threat. He could see through her detached demeanor, being only one of two people with Thoros being the second, who had seen her vulnerable. It was in moments of vulnerability she showed where her guard was down that Beric felt his love her grow. It was two years from the present moment that he confessed his feelings, but the young woman told him “There would never be a future between us, the Lord has given me a purpose as he has you and we must fulfill that purpose.” Beric wasn’t surprised by her response, and though she was serious about her stance the man could see her conflicting behavior over it. She wouldn’t admit it to him and he knew that which is why he never said anything about it since.  

He pulled his lips away and rested his forehead on hers, hand coming to rest on her cheek. “I have done my duty, and I couldn’t have been more honored to have you by my side. The Lord of Light brought us together, he brought you to me for a reason all those years ago. Have you found that reason?” 

Her eyes fluttered open and their noses brushed against each other. “The flames led me to you. I saw you beyond the Wall, I saw you here at Winterfell protecting the Stark girl....” there was a pause before she finally spoke, “I saw you with me. I tried to avoid it because I knew how it would end and I wanted to save us from the heartbreak it would bring.” Y/N went quiet, unable to find the right words that could ease the pain they both were feeling even if it didn’t show. “I’m sorry, Beric. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when I realized my feelings for you. You deserved so much better. If you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me--.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Y/N,” he told her, his tone nothing but genuine. “You did what you thought was right and I cannot blame you for that.” Another tear trailed down her cheek. Here was a man who faced death six times and was brought back by the Lord only to find the end of his journey on the Long Night. He deserved so much more in her eyes. Beric should have went on to marry, have children, and grow old alongside his wife before dying a peaceful death in his sleep. And the thought of it never happening to him brought anguish to the young priestess.

“But now it’s too late,” she said, “You should’ve been happy. I could’ve given you at least a year or two of happiness.”

“And you did,” he hushed her, “You did make me happy, for many years I was happy just by having you by my side. Having you kept me motivated and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” His lips came down where they hovered just over hers, “I always knew you felt the same, Y/N, but I understood why you never said anything. Despite not saying it, I knew in my heart you loved me and that made me happy.” A sob escaped her lips and Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Beric took the chance to close the gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a long awaited kiss. The action made her gasp, but she responded back all the same with her arms going to wrap around his neck and his resting on her waist. 

The world around them disappeared, and it was as if they were they only ones who existed. No Night King, no army of the dead, no wars between Kings and Queens, just a young priestess and a man gifted many chances at life.  

Y/N could feel the fire in her rising as they kissed. Her body leaning into the man who held her with care. When Beric pulled away, he kept his face close to hers, “It’s not too late just yet. We still have tonight.” His words confused her at first, but the desire in his eyes pieced the puzzle together. Her small hand grasped his before turning to walk, pulling him with her while she guided him to her chambers not too far away. Anyone could pass them and she wouldn’t care, there would only be a few hours before the dead arrived and Y/N was determined to make these final ones with Beric worth everything. 

**

The moment the two entered the small room the priestess had been staying in Beric had her pressed against the door. His arms lifting her off the ground where her legs wrapped around his waist which was easy since her dress was thin and not layered. His mouth found hers, claiming it in a passionate kiss that left the woman in a daze. A hand bushed over her thigh, hitching it up higher that caused Y/N to gasp when she felt his hard bulge rub against her thinly clothed core. Beric trailed his lips down her neck over any exposed skin he could find while her fingers ran through his hair.

As his lips ghosted over her collarbone, Y/N tugged on his hair to pull him away from her skin. “Will you surrender yourself to me, Beric,” she whispered against his lips, “Just as I will surrender myself to you.”  The hand on her thigh traveled up her body, cupping her breast before caressing the area between her neck and shoulder.

“I will have you, if you have me.” Her lips returned to his and Y/N felt herself being moved from her place against the door to across the room. Beric laid her down on the soft furs, his hands moving down her body to where the laces of her silk attire laid. He first reached up to remove her scarf before going back to her dress. Y/N kept her eyes on his while he undid the lace, never once breaking the eye contract when his hands went to remove the fabric from her shoulders to reveal her bare skin. The dress fell onto the bed leaving the young woman exposed in all her glory with only the amulet remaining around her neck.

Beric had never seen a more beautiful being. His lone eye traveled all over her figure, admiring each and every curve she possessed. She watched his expression turn to one of desire and he soon leaned over her to capture her lips in a soft kiss before moving his mouth downward. Y/N gasped when he kissed along the valley of her breasts, hands coming up to grasp the mounds while he continued to kiss every inch of her torso, playfully biting the skin on her hips. The moans escaping her filled the room and another gasp could be heard from her when Beric’s breath was felt on her inner thigh. 

Y/N’s eyes connected with his, Beric placing a kiss on the skin above her pubic bone where the hair of his beard ticked her, before reaching to interlace his hand with hers. His other hand rested on her hip to keep her in place and Y/N inhaled deeply when the first kiss to her inner lips was met. The moan she let out encouraged Beric to continue, his mouth connecting with her womanhood where he kissed and licked every inch of her while she was a withering mess above him.

“Oh, Beric,” her voice cracked, her free hand reaching down to grasp his hair. Beric’s tongue could be felt in between her folds and Y/N had to bite back a scream, squeezing his hand while her hips thrusted against him. His arm went around her waist to keep her down and the moans left her lips like a symphony. It was like music to his ears and he smirked all the while kissing her womanhood with more love and urgency. Soon she felt a knot form in her lower stomach causing her to gasp, but Beric never stopped his actions on her. “Beric, I-I’m close--I.”

Bringing his hand down and resting it on bundle of nerves was enough for Y/N to release, a groan living her lips followed by fast breathing. Sweat gathered on her forehead from the heat her body felt, and she whimpered when Beric gave a few final licks to her to clean up the mess gathered from her orgasm. Once she was cleaned, he rose up from between her legs and connected his mouth to hers. She could taste the remanence of herself on his lips causing her to moan and the desire for him increase.

Pushing him to his back, Y/N ran her hands along his chest while his hands went to rest on her waist as she straddled him. Sitting up, he held her close to him while they continued to kiss and Y/N unlaced the cloak around his neck before moving to undo his armor. He helped her, the kiss breaking so they could remove each piece by piece until he was finally in just his undershirt and trousers. He kept his eye on her when she undid the laces of the shirt to expose his chest and torso, the fabric being discarded and onto the floor. 

His body shivered when her fingers gently glided over his skin, tracing over the many scars starting from his neck down to his abdomen. She placed a kiss over the deep one that surrounded his neck from the time the Lannisters executed him for treason, causing Beric to let out a sigh. She continued to trail her lips on the scar and once she got to the other side of where she started, Y/N pulled away from him and reached up to remove the cloth from his face.

Beric’s hands shot out to stop the woman causing her to frown. “I want to see all of you, Beric,” she whispered. He stayed silent although he appeared to be nervous. The last time Y/N saw him without his eyepatch was the day she met him, and Beric would by lying if he said he didn’t feel anxious about letting her see that ugly side of him.

When he didn’t say anything Y/N grabbed him by his cheeks to pull him into a passionate kiss, one that poured all the love she was feeling to him. He responded back whole heartedly, his arms moving to cradle her bare body against him. Their tongues clashed and Y/N pulled away after a few moments but kept her face close to him. “This is our last night, I want to see all of you.” All Beric could do was nod and watch as the woman brought her hand up and slowly took away the wrapped cloth that shielded his scarred face away from the world.

It was dropped to the floor, Y/N not caring as it fell and she then cupped his face so her thumb could run across the rough skin. Her lips maneuvered over to firmly press them on it and Beric couldn’t stop the lone tear that fell from his eye. His face buried in her neck, the roughness of his beard brushing her skin making her shiver. He sucked on the skin their, moving her hair over her shoulder to get better access while she held onto him and continued to leave kisses on his cheek.

Y/N moaned when he bit softly on her neck before kissing it once more. She knew there would leave a mark, but she didn’t worry at all. In fact, she wanted the mark to last forever, but forever would never come. Her thought were interrupted when she felt his manhood against her though, begging to be released. Drawing back from Beric, Y/N removed herself from his lap to kneel before him all while keeping her eyes on his. She nestled in between his legs and began to untie his trousers causing his heart to speed up.

“Y/N you don’t have to--.”

“I want to,” she stopped him, her face completely serious, “I want to, Beric. Let me pleasure like you did me. We only have tonight, so let us make the most of it. Please.” When he didn’t try to stop her, Y/N went back to untying the material until his cock sprung free. Beric’s breath hitched when she lowered her head and kissed the tip before slowly taking him into her mouth. A hand automatically went to her hair, but he didn’t pull or tug he simple kept a firm hold on her while she sucked. 

Beric let out a groan, eyes closing when she started to bob her head up and down his length, his breathing becoming heavy. Y/N picked up her pace after a few minutes of being slow and Beric moaned, his hips involuntarily thrusting into her mouth which almost made her gag. He mentally cursed himself, trying to stay calm and ruining the moment by finishing before she could prepare herself. The moans got louder, Y/N smiling at the sound. She took him deeper and could feel his fingers tangle in her hair. 

Beric was overwhelmed with pleasure and thanked the Lord of Light for giving him this moment. All those years of being alone and wondering what  it would be like to have the priestess surrender herself to him was finally paying off. It may be their final night in the world, but Beric was grateful he got to experience this moment with her. The woman he loved. 

When he opened his eyes he nearly came right then and there seeing his cock disappeared as she took him into her mouth so easily and willingly. His breath wavered and the sweat began to pool at his forehead. Not wanting to climax in her mouth, Beric gently pulled her from him, “Stop, Y/N.” The woman was confused by his words, but before she could say anything he added, “I want to finish in you.” 

She was speechless, her bottom lip falling to leave a small gap between it and her upper one. The woman allowed Beric to bring her up from her position on the ground, gently guiding her so her back was pressed flat against the bed. After discarding his pants, Beric nestled between her legs and hovered over her. The fire crackling gave the room a reddish-orange glow and the couple basked in the warmth it gave, their bodies on fire.

With their chests pressed together leaving little to no room between them, Beric grabbed Y/N’s hands and held them up beside her head. “I’m sorry if this hurts love.” he whispered to her, nose brushing against her own. The woman could feel him against her core and moved her legs slightly more apart, letting him push closer to her. 

“You could never hurt me, Beric.” With that, the man slowly eased his cock through her folds and Y/N gasped at the feeling. Her eyes briefly shut, and Beric placed a kiss to her the corner of her lips all while continuing to push into her. When he was all the way in, he waited a few seconds so she could adjust to the knew feeling, his lips moving to press kisses to her cheeks. It wasn’t until he felt her move her hips against his, signaling she was ready for him to move that Beric began thrusting into her.

His pace was slow. Gently bringing himself out before going back through her folds which had her whimpering beneath him. She squeezed his hands, hips moving to follow his pace and Y/N let out moan after moan while Beric made love to her. Their lips crashed together, Beric moaning into her mouth when she wrapped her legs around him allowing him to thrust deeper into her. Picking up the pace, Beric released one of her hands and placed his on her thigh to hitch it up higher to his waist. 

Y/N broke from the kiss when he did that. A scream softly leaving her when she felt him hit the spot deep within her that made her feel her second release begin to build. “Beric,” she whispered and the man’s hand soon found its way in between them where her bundle of nerves was. His thumb pressed against, urging her to come again and Beric thrusted harder, her free hand coming up to tangle in his hair. 

“I got you, Y/N” he spoke to her, and Y/N bit onto his shoulder as her second orgasm consumed her, milking his cock which had Beric following soon after her. He groaned, pressing his face into her neck while his thrusts wavered and his cum shot out into her. A few more thrusts followed, easing them both out of their climax and Beric kissed her once more. She leaned into the kiss, releasing his hand from hers so she could hold his face in both of them. Beric slowly removed himself from her and moved to gently rest his weight on her while continuing the kiss. The remanence of their love making pooled between her legs, and Y/N felt herself smile against Beric’s lips which had him smile too.

They pulled away from each other after a few minutes, but stayed close together with Beric moving to lay on his side and bringing the young woman against him. Her head laid on his chest with his fingers running along her back making her sigh in content. 

Coming down from their high, the couple basked in the silence with the only exception being the crackling of the fire. Y/N was grateful the horns hadn’t sounded, and prayed to the Lord they wouldn’t for awhile. She longed for more time with the man beside her. Their fates where already decided and there was nothing more they could do besides wait and enjoy whatever time remained. 

“I love you, Beric,” She whispered after several minutes of quiet. His hand never stopped their movement on her back and his breathing remained the same although Y/N could hear the slight skip of his heart from where head laid. A kiss was pressed to her head and she could feel his smile as he laid it there. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

Beric took her again, and again over the next few hours. Alternating positions where she was a moaning mess on top, or clutching the sheets in her hands while he thrusted behind her. He brought her to her climax every time with him finishing seconds later. Y/N was consumed with pleasure, the desire for him never once seizing as he continued to make love to her and leave the woman wanting more. It was roughly ten minutes after he brought her to her seventh orgasm of the night that the first of the horns was head. 

Neither spoke while they dressed, Y/N moving to help him with his armor after tying her dress together and placing the hooded scarf back over her head. The horns sounded again, and Y/N felt her hands falter with the gear which made Beric slowly take them in his palms. The two stared at each other while movement outside the door indicated those in the castle were preparing for what was to come and Y/N gave the man a smile though her expression was nothing but somber.

“I’ve enjoyed my time with you, Beric Dondarrion,” her voice trembled as her lip began to quiver, heart breaking in two. It would be the last time she saw him alive, and Y/N had to remain strong. They would never get to live out a life they could have had. Marry, have children and grow old to watch them have children. No, but maybe they get to have a life beyond the one they had now and Y/N could only mentally pray to R’hollor he would allow them to meet again in the afterlife. 

With one final look her to encase the last moment of her in his mind, the man reached up to cup her cheek, his now gloved thumb running along the skin. A final kiss to her lips, Beric smiled, “And I have enjoyed mine with you, Y/N of Asshai.”

~~~~

The battle waged on. The chaos could be heard from the doorways and windows Y/N and Melisandre where enclosed in. The two hadn’t seen each other in years, but neither spoke when they had reunited and instead nodded to each other in greeting. They didn’t have to say anything, the look on their faces was enough to speak volume in the silent interaction. 

Y/N was standing by the window, hood over head when noise approaching filled her ears. She turned around just in time to witness the young Stark girl burst through the door being dragged by the large man they called “The Hound.” Her body froze when another figure limped into the frame and fall to the floor. The two rushed to close the door, Arya putting all her strength in to hold it while Sandor barricaded them in. Once they were safe the girl ran to the limp figure on the ground to help them up and Y/N slowly approached them.

She didn’t have to see the other side of his face to know it was Beric, the attire he was wearing was enough to indicate. Arya snapped her head to her at the sound of the footsteps. Her eyes narrowed, recognizing the woman but she remained silent when Y/N got closer until she knelled beside Beric. Arya watched as the woman brought her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into it, head falling to the side so he could see her one last time. 

No words were spoken as Beric took his last breaths, willing his eye to stay open just so his final vision in the world was of the beautiful priestess who captured his heart. Y/N smiled softly at him, his own coming to rest on his face and she mouthed the words “I love you.” It was in that moment his movements halted, the final exhale leaving his lips and face becoming blank. The room grew silent, and Y/N gently brought her other hand up to close his eye and leaned her head down to kiss his forehead. 

“The Lord brought him back for a purpose,” she spoke when she pulled away, her tone never shaking. Her face became stoic and she met the eyes of the bloodied girl next to her, “Now that purpose has been served.” Raising herself Y/N moved to stand beside Melisandre, who Arya was now made aware was in the room with them.

“I know you,” the words left her lips while her eyes remained on Melisandre’s. The older priestess moved forward, staring back at the girl who remained beside Beric’s body. “And I know you.”

Arya stood and walked until she was directly in front of the red woman. Y/N moved so she was behind the Stark girl and could feel the Hounds eyes watching them closely. 

“You said we’d meet again.” 

“And here we are, at the end of the world.”

“You said I would shut many eyes forever,” Arya repeated the words the Witch told her years before, “you were right about that too.”

“Brown eyes...Green eyes,” Melisandre went off, and paused briefly and connected her eyes with Y/N’s.

“And blue eyes,” her voice spoke from behind causing Arya turn around slowly as if the wind had been knocked out of her. The two held eye contact as the sounds of the wright approaching got louder, and Y/N couldn’t help the smirk on her lips when she nodded to the girl who had finally pieced together what they were telling her. 

The slamming of the door down the hall caused Arya to turn her attention to the barricaded one in front of her. It soon rattled and Sandor clutched his ax, moving so he was behind Arya while Y/N and Melisandre paced forward so they were directly beside her. The sounds got louder and Y/N found herself leaning forward to Arya, all while keeping her eyes on the rattling door ahead.

“What do we say to the God of Death?”

“Not today.”

~~~~

The dead fell as the Night King crumbled. The battle of Ice and Fire coming to end. Y/N’s feet dragged her through the courtyard of Winterfell, bodies all around her with many she could recognize. Her breathing became heavy although her face remained blank. The wind ran though her hair and Y/N could see Melisandre leaving the castle where she passed Ser Davos. A slight light filled the sky and Y/N eyes turned up to see the clouded darkness become lighter with each passing second. Melisandre was already gone and soon she would be too. 

Her feet carried her to the middle of the courtyard where Jon Snow stood. She didn’t even look at him when she passed, even when he called out her name.

“Y/N.” There was no answer from her. All he could do was watch while she walked away, her eyes trained ahead. Her movement faltered as the energy that flowed within started to drain and she could hear Jon’s muffled voice call for her again when she nearly fell. Again she said nothing, and this time Jon started to follow her which only made her move faster as her body allowed her. 

It was just before she could reach the gates of Winterfell that Y/N could no longer keep herself up. Her knees buckled, Jon watching as the woman tumbled and fall to the ground.

“Y/N!” he shouted and his legs moved in a sprint. His voice had alarmed several nearby which included Sandor, Gendry and Tormund. All who had not seen her since EastWatch when they went north of the Wall and she went to Winterfell to wait for them. They gathered around when Jon knelt to the ground and took the woman in his arms. His face turned to shock when he moved her body so he could see her face.

The once warm and lively skin the priestess possessed was now cold and pale. Her prominent cheekbones she had appeared more hollow and her eyes were closed with her eyelids remaining stagnant, not responding at all to her being moved and adjusted in the mans arms. It was when the men around gazed down to her amulet that they realized what happened to the young priestess. 

The amber they knew had been glowing prior to the battle was now dull. Her skin was becoming more pale and her breathing had stopped. Jon brought his gloved hand up to her neck, removing the steel necklace and letting it drop to the dirt. He then placed his two fingers where pulse would have been and dropped his head when he felt nothing. Y/N was a peace.

“She’s gone,” he spoke through the silence. Tormund felt his eyes gloss over for in the short amount of time he knew the young woman, she was nothing but kind to him. Even if he spoke ill will of her God or jokingly called her a fanatic, she was not someone who snapped or insulted him. The free folk giant felt sadness consume him that her short life ended, and there was nothing he could do to save her. Gendry had always held resentment for Y/N, after all she didn’t stop Melisandre from taking him all those years ago, but in this moment all anger subsided and the young man dropped his head in remorse.

“Her Lord called her home,” a voice said causing them all to look up. Ser Davos was standing roughly 5 paces away from them, his vision focused on the priestess in Jon’s arms. The older man slowly approached while his mind replayed the moments he spent with her during their time with Stannis. She always gave him a smile that would light the room. While Melisandre was always glued to Stannis’ side and got him to let her do her bidding, Y/N would voice when she felt things were being unreasonable and Davos appreciated it when she did. He never really got to say goodbye to her when she left for Winterfell, the priestess was not one for emotions and liked to keep things simple. All Davos could feel was regret he didn’t get that chance and his eyes began to water. He kept the tears at bay, “She served her purpose for Him, and it was time for her to return home.”

 Another silence overtook the group, the snow beginning to fall from the sky as the Long Night came to an end. Before long they would have to gather all of the fallen and say their final goodbyes. “Burn her next to Beric,” Sandor’s gruff voice cut through the silence, his tone sounding like defeat although they had just won the battle. He gave one last look to Y/N,  “They were made for each other, they deserve to be sent off together.” The large man turned on his heel and left the group, not wanting them to see his vulnerability at loosing another friend. He hated it whenever Thoros and Beric preached about the Lord of Light and even when Y/N would talk about Him he would roll his eyes. It took weeks after he joined the Brotherhood Sandor noticed himself enjoying their conversations. She never made him feel awful for the things he did, and wasn’t afraid to look at him despite his scars. It surprised him the day she joked, “If I can look at Beric and Thoros all day with no problem, why shouldn’t I look at you. Have you seen them?” He could still remember the offended looks the two men gave her which was enough to actually make Sandor laugh. 

Sandor grew to care for her, much like everyone in the Brotherhood did and he was always aware of the feelings she and Beric had for one another. It annoyed him to no ends whenever he caught them giving lingering stares, even saying to Beric one night by the fire when she left for bed, “How about you quit eye fucking her ever minute and actual fuck her since you want to so bad.” Again the Hound found himself rolling his eyes when Beric went off about how the Lord of Light gave her a purpose, and how it was not with him. 

Beric was dead now, and so was Y/N. Sandor could only mentally scoff now by the facts of that thinking how now they will be together in the afterlife. All he could do now is wait till his time comes and be at peace. 

When the pyres were built the next morning and the dead laid waiting, Sandor gave a final hand squeeze to the young priestess, who laid beside Beric looking utterly peaceful. Glancing at the man and woman, Sandor took each of their hands and enclosed them together before leaving the two to stand with the others who had said their goodbyes to the fallen. 

It was Arya who took the torch that set fire to the pyre they laid on. Two people who were once on her list who ended up being the reason she were alive to see the next day. The girl held a frown while the sadness made its way through her. Arya would never get the chance to thank them for their sacrifice to her, so she closed her eyes and mentally said a few words to send them off before opening. Placing the torch beneath them, Arya stood back as the fire spread eventually consuming the couple and everyone that laid.

The flames that led them to each other, now devoured a young red priestess from Asshai and one eyed warrior from Blackhaven. Sending them off as the Lord of Light called them home. 

[ao3feed-gendrya]

as the wall did crumble and fall

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2IA1Nuj

by racoongal

*spoilers for 8.01 and 8.02*

a little window into their last night (and a good bye because i KNOW someone is gonna die next ep i can fuckin feel it) ((the hound x oc is shameless self insert im sorry about it skip it if u like)

Words: 291, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Grey Worm/Missandei, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Original Female Character(s), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2IA1Nuj

[princess-in-a-tower]

Sansa’s “Beauty and the Beast” Arc, Part 1

GRRM has drawn inspiration for ASoIaF from various other works of fiction as well as historical events. The Lord of the Rings and the War of the Roses are two prominent examples. Not far behind those two big ones though is another story, which happens to be one of the author’s favorites: Beauty and the Beast.

Sidenote 1: For those of you who have not watched the following two versions of Beauty and the Beast, I suggest you at least read their summaries before continuing reading this meta.

 La Belle et la Bête (1946)

Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Beauty and the Beast is a fairytale that has heavily influenced Sansa’s arc. Many have commented on the Beauty and the Beast theme in Sansa’s arc before me, and yet no one to my knowledge actually took a step back to look at the bigger picture GRRM has painted. The picture which makes it clear that the outline of Sansa’s story, stripped to its bare bones, is following faithfully the one of Beauty in Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast.

Sidenote 2: Even though GRRM holds Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast in high esteem, I believe he is also critical of it to a degree and subverts the plot points he would like to “fix” (for whatever reason), while at the same time taking care to remain as faithful as possible to the original story. This of course is just my own observation while composing this meta, but GRRM’s own words support it, since he admitted:

Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it's not that simple.

George R.R. Martin: The Rolling Stone Interview, April 23, 2014

Sidenote 3: This meta series is in no way a shipping manifesto, but rather a critical in-depth analysis of the ASOIAF text in relation to Cocteau’s “Beauty and the Beast” adaptation. As a result it ended up being extremely critical of ships like Sansa x Sandor and Sansa x Tyrion , because they, in no way, parallel the dynamic between Beauty and the Beast, but rather juxtapose it, as will be demonstrated in the following parts of this meta series. If you like those ships and still decide to read on, please remember that you have been warned.

In the very beginning of her story in AGOT it would have been impossible to guess Sansa would become asoiaf’s most prominent “Beauty” figure, mainly due to the fact that GRRM went to great pains to present her like an “evil step-sister” to Arya’s “heroine”.

When we are introduced to Sansa in Arya’s first POV chapter, and even later in her own first POV chapter, on a surface level she comes off as bratty, spoilt, superficial and snobbish. In other words, she is presented to us in a way that makes her look similar to Beauty’s step-sisters:

Beauty lives in the country with her father, a 17th-century merchant who has lost all his money; her brother, Ludovic, whose only interests are drinking and gambling; and her two sisters, Felicie and Adelaide, who are motivated entirely by spite, selfishness and vanity.

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

Not only that, but it can be argued that Sansa was Ned’s least favorite daughter with Arya as his favorite (proof of that can be found in the following series of metas: Ned, Sansa and Joffrey Part I, Part II, Part III) and it’s not a secret that Sansa looked forward to leaving her father and his protection for that of her husband’s. All of that links Sansa to Felicie and Adelaide and Arya to Beauty, as you can see in the following quotes:

BEAUTY: That wasn't the first time [Avenant has] asked me to marry him since we lost all our money.

THE MERCHANT (to Beauty): So you want to leave me.

BEAUTY: No, father, I'll never leave you.

[…]

THE MERCHANT: They're real little devils, aren’t they? Let them sulk; I'll soon console them. Tomorrow morning I'll go to the port to see to my business. Then one can marry a duke and the other a prince!

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

Another interesting scene is when Sansa wishes to join the queen in the royal wheelhouse, and Arya chooses to get her hands dirty instead:

"You better put on something pretty," Sansa told her. "Septa Mordane said so. We're traveling in the queen's wheelhouse with Princess Myrcella today."

"I'm not," Arya said, trying to brush a tangle out of Nymeria's matted grey fur. "Mycah and I are going to ride upstream and look for rubies at the ford."

A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

This echoes how Adelaide and Felicie wanted to attend the concert at the duchess’ court in the beginning of the film, while Beauty stays back and does chores around the house.

FELICIE(shouting): Beauty, you can wash the floor. We'll be late for the duchess.

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

The parallel here is anything but perfect, considering Sansa genuinely wanted Arya to join her in the royal wheelhouse and repeatedly tried to convince her to do so, unlike Beauty’s sisters, who wanted her to be their servant. That is because, as I said above, GRRM made both Sansa and Arya a mix of Beauty and her two “evil” sisters.

What actually makes the above parallel interesting and layered is exactly this mixing. Once you consider that it was Beauty and Sansa who chose to stay back and do what was right/expected of them (which are two vastly different things for each girl because Beauty is a commoner and Sansa is a noble maiden), while Arya and Beauty’s sisters decided to run off and do something more or less selfish for their own pleasure (which again are two anti-diametrical things for the same reason as above).

To wrap up this parallel between Sansa and Beauty’s sister, we see that she never got to ride with the queen:

“Sansa, the good councilors and I must speak together until the king returns with your father. I fear we shall have to postpone your day with Myrcella. Please give your sweet sister my apologies. Joffrey, perhaps you would be so kind as to entertain our guest today.”  

A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

Just like Felicie and Adelaide never got to attend the concert

FELICIE: We were told that the duchess was not receiving, though the court rang with laughter and music.

La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) script

Another thing that makes the connection between Sansa and Beauty more pronounced is the introduction of an “Avenant” figure, who is of course Joffrey: the blonde, dashing suitor with a not so hidden affinity for violence and an all around terrible character, with whom Sansa got to spend a whole lot of alone time in her first chapter. Unlike Beauty though, Sansa (and her father) accepts his marriage proposal and delights in spending time with him.

As we can see, by the end of Sansa’s first chapter, GRRM has established both similarities and differences between Sansa and Beauty. In my opinion GRRM decided to keep the core of Beauty’s character intact in Sansa (dutiful, kind, gentle, protective and romantic) and make her work towards the rest. That was accomplished by giving her some “undesirable” traits shared by Beauty’s sisters, which she would shed in later books through her negative experiences that would in turn result in positive character development.

From here on things only get more complicated, because, as I mentioned in the beginning, GRRM liberally subverts the things he disagrees with in Cocteau’s story. Not only that, but he uses a plethora of characters as stand-ins for Sansa’s “Beast” to move the story forward, all of them his foils in different ways each.

They all have one thing in common though, which establishes them as the Beast’s foils: They don’t care about Sansa’s consent. And the fact that men like Sandor Clegane and Tyrion Lannister could have taken more from Sansa but didn’t in the end, doesn't undo the abuse or lack of agency that Sansa suffers in those situations they put her into.

The most powerful force in Beauty and the Beast isn't magic, or even love, but consent. Most retellings of Villeneuve's version are careful to keep it. The Beast is clear that Beauty must know what she's getting into. (In Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch's 1910 version, it's still more explicit: The Beast warns Beauty's father to "be honest with your daughter. Describe me to her just as I am. Let her be free to choose whether she will come or no...") Later, the Beast asks Beauty herself if she comes willingly. And that first dinner is marked by the Beast's deference to her wishes. Beauty's earliest surprise is how much power she wields. Even in his nightly request that Beauty marry him, he defers. Andrew Lang emphasized the power dynamics in 1889's Blue Fairy Book:

"Oh! What shall I say?" cried Beauty, for she was afraid to make the Beast angry by refusing.

"Say 'yes' or 'no' without fear," he replied.

"Oh! No, Beast," said Beauty hastily

"Since you will not, good-night, Beauty," he said.

And she answered, "Good-night, Beast," very glad to find that her refusal had not provoked him.

Lang was one of many who used marriage proposals for the nightly request (Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont's 1756 retelling was the first), but Villeneuve was under no illusions about the story's undertones. In her original, Beast asks Beauty to sleep with him. Beauty's power is the ability to withhold sexual consent.

Beauty doesn't admit love for the Beast until after he releases her (which permits her to rejoin him on her own terms). But this regard for her will is what first softens Beauty's heart. The story's not just reminding young women to look beyond appearance but reminding young men how to conduct themselves. Fairy-tale scholar Jack Zipes outlines the story's social mandate in Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion: "The mark of beauty for a female is to be found in her submission, obedience, humility, industry, and patience; the mark of manliness is to be found in a man's self-control, politeness, reason, and perseverance."

Disney takes that out, and the story becomes significantly darker. Besides their rocky introduction, he punishes her for refusing to eat with him ("If she doesn't eat with me," he bellows, "then she doesn't eat at all!") and physically threatens her. His temper must be tamed before he can love or be loved—that, not his appearance, is the barrier. It's a decided departure from the courtly Beast, and Beauty's now required to forgive his outbursts before friendship can begin—an additional emotional burden. In this, Disney's more akin to 1978 Czech horror Panna a netvor (in which the Beast barely curbs his appetites and Beauty's drawn to him only through loneliness) than it is to the dreamlike tension of Jean Cocteau.

[...]

But Disney's retelling doesn't acknowledge its darkness. Covering threats with musical numbers doesn't count as exploration of subtext. This wasn't the first Beauty and the Beast adaptation to feature a Beast with rough edges, either; a story centered on power dynamics in relationships will shift to include contemporary concerns. But Disney's retelling asks Beauty to forgive abusive behavior, both ignoring the sovereignty of her consent and erasing the Beast's own obligations. And it's such an influential retelling, it's affected how the archetype has applied. By now, the label of a Beauty and the Beast story applies as much to a relationship in which the woman's love "tames" the man as it does to one about looking beyond appearances. (The CW's recent Beauty and the Beast updated the 1987 series(*) but replaced the scholarly, leonine hero with a handsome man with uncontrollable bursts of violent anger; these abusive undertones are the new beastliness. These days, Beauty is trapped in the Beast's S&M penthouse, and his understanding of consent is decidedly murky.)

How Disney's 'Beauty and the Beast' Became the Darkest Tale of All

(*) The 1987 series with the scholarly leonine hero mentioned above is the CBS TV adaptation, which was written amongst others by GRRM himself.

The above article was written in order to criticize the dark retelling of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast”, but I believe that everything that has been said there about Disney’s version could also be said for Sansa’s “Beauty and the Beast” arc in ASOIAF up until ASOS. And everything that’s been written about the audience’s faulty perception of the archetype can be applied to the readers of ASOIAF as well.

Beauty’s consent is of paramount importance in the original Beauty and the Beast fairytale written by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villenueve, which is something both Cocteau’s film and the CBS TV adaptation stayed true to. And yet, the men who took on the Beast’s role in Sansa’s storyline showed minimal to no respect towards her wishes and an equal amount of concern for her lack of consent. On the contrary, they all used and abused her, each of them in their own way, behaving more like villains than romantic interests. And that is because those men serving as the Beast’s foils are meant to be viewed as villains and not romantic interests, which can be supported by the words of the author himself:

Amazon.com: Do you have a favorite character?

Martin: I've got to admit I kind of like Tyrion Lannister. He's the villain of course, but hey, there's nothing like a good villain.

George RR Martin, Amazon.com, 1999

Martin: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions of women in particular to some of the villains. [unintelligible] Over the years who have written me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister, or Sandor Clegane the Hound, or Theon Greyjoy, you know. All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides who have done some very dark things.

George RR Martin, interview with Geek and Sundry, June 2012

Commenter 1: Oh please don't cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn't bear if it'd feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that's me making demands. LOL

Martin: Old guy? No, but... the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive... you know, those hideous burns and all that... he's a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

[...]

Commenter 2: LOL, you're such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

Martin: But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

Comments on GRRM’s Not A Blog, August 2009

But why would GRRM decide to change his Beast from the kind and decent Beast archetype into the obviously much more problematic and villainous new one when he started writing AGOT in 1991, just one year after the CBS TV adaptation ended? Considering that 1991 was the year Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” came out and that one of GRRM’s favorite movies is Cocteau’s “Beauty and the Beast”, I believe it’s not that far-fetched to assume this change can be attributed to the author’s discontent with Disney’s adaptation.

In my opinion, the subversion of the “Beauty and the Beast” trope in Sansa’s arc is the author’s in-text critique of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast”. By having the Beast figures in Sansa’s arc be dark, abusive and villainous, GRRM wished to showcase how the new “Beauty and the Beast” trope, where Beauty is required to forgive the Beast’s abusive behavior and “tame” him with her gentleness, should not be romanticized, because, in real life, Beauty not only won’t be able to tame the Beast, but she also shouldn’t be required to.

So in away, I believe he is deconstructing this very dark and problematic version of the trope in order to reinvent the original one. And for the deconstruction part he needs foils, but for the reconstruction he needs the actual Beast. And there are foils of the Beast aplenty in ASOIAF, but only one Beast.

The first foil of the Beast will be discussed in the second part of this meta series.

Special thanks to @kellyvela and @lostlittlesatellites for their help in the writing of this meta with their invaluable input and constant support.

EDIT: The rest of the series can be found in the following links part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

[megsironthrone]

The Wolf’s Storm

Anonymous asked: Hi! Would you be able to write- being a female Stark and Sandor Clegane trying to comfort you after the Red Wedding. She kills the three guys like Arya & then you have a bit of a shouting match in the woods but the reader starts crying & he comforts her :)

This is part one of a series. The series has 4 parts right now and a 5th on the list. I do not own Sandor or any familiar plot line. That belongs to George R.R.Martin. 

Warnings: Violence, death, angst and teeny bit of fluff

Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x fem!Stark reader

Sandor “The Hound” Clegane kept an eye on you as you sat in front of him on Stranger. You hadn’t cried. Hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t said much of anything since he dragged you away from the Twins and the carnage that happened there. You kept your eyes looking ahead and your mouth shut. For once, Sandor found himself wondering just what was going through your head. Was this just the calm before the storm?

               Sandor was so consumed by his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed you sliding off the horse until you were running in the opposite direction. He turned Stranger around and followed, more curious than anything. You approached three men that were sitting around a fire. “Might I warm myself?” you asked. “Get outta here, girl or we’ll make a woman outta ya,” one said. You gave a fake little laugh just before plunging a dagger into the man’s neck. You could feel your heart in your throat and the blood pounding in your ears as you killed all three men. You wouldn’t stop until you knew they were dead.

               You stared at the bloody mess in front of you and heard footsteps. You didn’t turn or say anything. You knew Sandor would follow you. “Where did ya get that knife?” his raspy voice asked. You held it up to hand to him. “From you,” you answered before walking over to Stranger. “The next time you’re goin’ to do something like that, tell me first,” Sandor scolded you, but you simply rolled your eyes. “Bloody woman goin’ to get yourself killed,” he muttered.

               "You don’t have to stay with me, you know,“ you stated matter-of-factly, "You could just drop me off at some village or leave me here in the woods for all I care. It doesn’t matter anymore!” You made your way to a little stream that you had passed. You crouched down and began to clean the blood off your hands. You heard Sandor following you again. For some reason he couldn’t explain, Sandor felt responsible for you.

               "Woman, this world isn’t for the weak. You’re better off with me,“ he said gruffly. You stood and turned to face him. "I AM NOT WEAK! I AM A STARK OF WINTERFELL!” you screamed as loudly as you could. “And what good has that done ya? You’re out here with me, not in a cushy bed. Face it, your family is dead and I’m all you’ve got,” he replied, trying his best not to yell back at you. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, you slapped him across the face. Hard.

               Without waiting a beat, you slapped him again. When you went to slap him once more, Sandor caught your wrist and held it. As you gazed at him, you felt your resolve crumble. You finally let the flood of tears wash over you. You sank to your knees and let out every sob you’d been holding back since you left the Twins. Your parents were gone. Robb was gone. Bran and Rickon were dead too. Sansa was a prisoner in King’s Landing and Arya was nowhere to be found. Sandor was right. You truly were alone.

               Sandor sank into a crouch in front of you, not really knowing what to do. He had never been good with emotion. “Lass, stop the sniveling. I’m takin’ ya to your aunt Lysa in the Vale.” You grimaced. You remembered your Aunt Lysa. She wasn’t all there and you certainly didn’t want to be with her. Then again, the only other relative you could go to was much further North. Your half-brother Jon was at The Wall and women were not allowed. You continued crying. You couldn’t seem to stop and then, you did something neither you nor Sandor expected. You threw your arms around his neck in a hug.

               After a moment of internal conflict, Sandor relented and wrapped his arms around you as he fell to his knees too. “I am weak,” you whispered through your tears, “A stupid woman that has no family anymore.” The two of you stayed that way for what seemed like hours. He was stiff and awkward at first, but eventually he relaxed.

               You honestly needed that hug, but you also knew that Sandor was uncomfortable with it. You let go of him and attempted to dry your eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry I slapped you. I had no right.” He chuckled darkly, handing you a handkerchief for your nose and eyes. “If that’s the worst ya do when you’re angry with me, then I’m pretty certain I’ll be alright.” You giggled a little and stood up. As you stood, your foot got caught on your dress and you staggered forward, right in Sandor’s arms. You quickly stood and backed away, blushing. You noticed a slight pink tint to Sandor’s cheeks as well and you got the feeling that your journey was about to get much more interesting.

(The scene with the three Frey soldiers was originally from episode 3.10) 

@brewsthespirit-blog @fairytalesexistxx @gameofwinters @littlemisscaptainfandom @line-viper @etherealpotter @silverwingedfox

[drymushroomfics]

•○•♡•○•Fanfic Masterlist•○•♡•○•

A/n: Still in the process of uploading all of these so not everything has links yet

○Sandor Clegane

• Fraye Hill of House Lannister

• Too Many Questions

• Reminiscing

○ Rory McCann

• Boat Ride

• A Gift

○Colin Firth

• Proof

• Time

• Thanks, Stan

• Lust For Life

• Hope Springs

○Kingsman

•Eggsy's Plan

• Reciprocated Feelings

• First Words

○Till Lindemann

• Changes

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

GOT Ships

OTP: 

Jon Snow x Sansa Stark Robb Stark x Jon Snow  Renly Baratheon x Loras Tyrell  Robb Stark x Jon Snow x Sansa Stark 

Love: 

Jaime Lannister x Brienne of Tarth  Gendry Waters x Arya Stark  Margaery Tyrell x Sansa Stark  Shireen Baratheon x Myrcella Baratheon  Trystane Martell x Myrcelle Baratheon  Tommen Baratheon x Shireen Baratheon  Khal Drogo x Daenerys Targaryen  Bran Stark x Jojen Reed  Oberyn Martell x Jon Snow  Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand 

Like: 

Robb Stark x Theon Greyjoy  Robb Stark x Margaery Tyrell  Willas Tyrell x Jon Snow  Willas Tyrell x Sansa Stark  Theon Greyjoy x Sansa Stark  Tyrion Lannister x Sansa Stark  Eddard Stark x Catelyn Stark  Rhaegar Targaryen x Elia Martell x Lyanna Stark  Sandor Clegane x Sansa Stark  Jon Snow x Samwell Tarly  Jon Snow x Ygritte  Samwell Tarly x Gilly  Tormund Giantsbane x Jon Snow  Yara Greyjoy x Sansa Stark  Grey Worm x Missandei  Daenerys Targaryen x Missandei  Daenerys Targaryen x Sansa Stark  Podrick Payne x Sansa Stark  Domenic Bolton x Sansa Stark  Podrick Payne x Brienne of Tarth  Tormund Giantsbane x Brienne of Tarth  Edric Dayne x Arya Stark  Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister  Oberyn Martell x Jon Snow x Ellaria Sand  Character x Original Character 

Neutral: 

Jon Snow x Daenerys Targaryen  Bran Stark x Meera Reed  Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark  Rhaegar Targaryen x Elia Martell  Jon Snow x Arya Stark  Theon Grayjoy x Jon Snow  Eddard Stark x Ashara Dayne  Brandon Stark x Catelyn Stark  Bran Stark x Shireen Baratheon  Jaime Lannister x Daenerys Targaryen  Any Ship Not Listed 

Dislike: 

Robert Baratheon x Cersei Lannister  Stannis Baratheon x Selyse Florent  Petyr Baelish x Catelyn Stark  Roose Bolton x Robb Stark  Joffrey Baratheon x Anyone  Ramsay Bolton x Anyone 

Hate: 

Robert Baratheon x Lyanna Stark  Petyr Baelish x Sansa Stark  Joffrey Baratheon x Sansa Stark  Ramsay Bolton x Sansa Stark  Renly Baratheon x Any Female  Loras Tyrell x Any Female  Gregor Clegane x Anyone 

[houndofsevenhells]

“The Hound That Lies” (Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character)

SUMMARY — The hour of the wolf comes and a certain chambermaid still cannot fall asleep. She goes out for a walk to cure her insomnia and runs into none other than the Hound. Drunken confessions and deep introspection ensue.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is the "Upstairs, Downstairs" of the Red Keep that nobody asked for. Told from the perspective of another person, but very Sandor-centric. It's mostly written due to my deep adoration for him as a character. English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes that is my fault alone.

WORD COUNT — 5,032

Masterlist

My days as a palace servant in King’s Landing started before dawn and stretched late into the night, sometimes well past the hour of the bat. The servants of the royal palace all had their place and duties and nobody stepped one toe out of line; not unless they wanted to be subject to strict punishments–or a fate even worse than that.

The royal household of king Robert Baratheon, first of his name, consisted of the usual army of servants. Aside from us, the household staff included the royal guard, the captains, the marshals, the grooms, the pages, and the Kingsguard. Those, however, stayed in the barracks and in their own palace quarters. Truth be told, we rarely saw them at all.

The army I belonged to was an army of another quality, though those in charge of it still drilled and ruled their subordinates in a way no lesser than the most sadistic of the captains. 

The first layer of those closest to the king, and therefore to gods themselves, were the seneschals, the chaplains, the stewards, the cupbearers, and the chamberlains. Then there were the wardrobe masters and the raiment mistresses, who ruled the realms of the royal garments. Under them was the head maid, who held her own regiment of nearly a hundred chambermaids that scrubbed floors, mended clothes, stripped the beds of the dirty sheets, delivered sheets and clothing to and from the laundresses, and did everything else under the sun expected of the servants of the highest quality and the lowest breeding.

The kitchen staff I knew very little of and they equally knew very little of us, the waiting staff, but we all uniformly hated the lady’s maids. They were the nobility of the servants and rarely deigned to acknowledge us, the chambermaids, for anything more than lowly serfs.

Ever since I came to King’s Landing, there was hardly any disturbance in my daily routine. As the servants we had very little money and very little spare time to spend it. Most of us lived in the servants’ quarters in the lowest parts of the keep–those that had their own families and lived in the city were considered lucky.

Most nights, if I could allow myself the luxury, I tried to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But that night, the night when I met Sandor Clegane, sleep just would not come to me. I tossed and turned until the hour of the wolf, when finally I was too fed up with myself and I went outside to the palace gardens to take a walk. 

Most of the time, even the foulest of guards would leave us serving girls well enough alone, but still I took a sharp dagger with me and hid it beneath my skirts. As I wandered the gardens alone, I tried to be as silent as possible. Taking in the air as a cure was one thing, but being an airhead would be another. And I have lived too long to allow myself to be stupid.

“Walkin’ around at night, girl? Are ya that reckless or that stupid?” A gruff voice startled me and when I turned around, a half-burned face of Sandor Clegane was right there before me, looking down on me with a sneer. 

I swallowed hard and my hand went straight to the hilt of my dagger. I felt it underneath the fingertips and it made me feel marginally safer. But the man in front of me was huge, at least two feet taller than me; his presence dark and frightful.

“Oh,” I said, trying to make my voice sound normal. “It’s just you.”

“Just me?” He scoffed and took one step closer. The smell of wine immediately hit my nose. He had a bottle with him and now paused to take a swig from it. “Now, I ain’t arguably the worst you can meet in those gardens at night, girl, but what in seven hells do ya mean by ‘just’?”

“I meant…”

“Hm?”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to look him right in the eye. The Hound and his menacing presence in the keep were just one of those things that one had to get used to while working for the royal family. The Baratheons and the Lannisters were united as one family now and all of us had to get used to the change of regime. 

Not that serving under the Targaryens and the Mad King had been such a privilege. 

But the fact of the matter was, I have served under the Mad King’s rule and survived. I was not about to let a Lannister dog push me around.

“Nothing. What are you doing here?” I asked.

Clegane scoffed again and for a second I thought he would try to hurt me, but then I noticed he was swaying a little and I exhaled. Most of the household staff knew that a drunk Sandor Clegane was much less menacing than a sober one. And because Clegane was never sober, usually he would release his anger in the training yard–not on the serving girls. Which was still more than what could be said about the noble Kingsguard.

“Same as you,” Clegane grumbled. “Can’t sleep. Too much to drink, too many voices, too many memories.” He looked away from me then and I thought that would be the end of our conversation, but it would seem we must have found each other on one of his chattier nights. “You get nightmares, girl?” he asked, his attention back to me.

“I do,” I replied before I could help myself. 

But that was why I was there, wasn’t it? I doubted he would remember that conversation the next day, let alone in an hour, so I decided to talk to him a little. Maybe we would bore each other to tears and then I would finally fall asleep.

“What kind?” he asked.

“What?”

“The nightmares.”

“Oh,” I sighed, “Most nights I just lay awake, full of fear, before the nightmares even happen. So most nights I just take a walk instead.”

“Does it help?”

“No.”

He laughed at that, if his particular kind of bark could even be called a laughter, and nodded as if he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“So you go out and you find me here.” He looked at me more closely and leaned forward. I did my best not to cower before him. It was not his face that frightened me. It was the height and the sheer bulk of the man that did it. Even dressed in a lighter dark surcoat instead of his usual heavy armour, Clegane could strike fear into the hearts of men with little effort.

“What do your nightmares tell you, girl?” Clegane asked and I frowned at the forwardness. 

“I do not wish to say,” I muttered. “I do not know you.”

What I meant was, I did not trust him at all. Just like the Grand Maester, Clegane was a Lannister creature. It was known. After what the palace household had lived through during the sack of King’s Landing, I would never trust a Lannister with anything.

“But that is my point, isn’t it?” Clegane took a long drink from his bottle. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. So. You can tell me anything. You have a secret,” he pointed to me, “I have a secret.” He touched his own chest, swaying a bit once more. “I won’t tell another soul, but I know you won’t, ‘cause I’ve seen you here before, girl. No one who’s lived in this bloody place half as long as you have could survive by spilling secrets.” His half-burned lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “Or am I wrong?”

I thought about what he said and then I thought about what I saw after the sack. I only survived because I was small enough to hide in the cupboard in the pantry where the head maid stored the cleaning supplies. “Mouse” is what some of the other chambermaids called me, because I would scutter from place to place, always quick and always silent. Being a mouse had saved me that day. Mostly it saved me from the Mountain That Rides and his men.

But Sandor Clegane was not his brother, this much I knew. Just like the current king was not his horrible son. Most household staff avoided both, if they could help it–the crown prince and his horrible shadow were always together, but if you looked closely, you learned quickly that they couldn’t be further apart. I have never seen the younger Clegane hurt or kill a girl, but I have scrubbed the floors in the royal apartments where the Mountain did the unspeakable to the poor Princess Elia.

“You are not wrong,” I admitted. “I think… It sounds about right.” 

I was grateful that the gardens were shrouded in darkness, because the memories of that day brought tears to my eyes that were now threatening to spill.

“So spit it out.” Somehow, Clegane’s voice made it easier to control myself. “Do ya want to sit?” 

He walked past me then, quickly and remarkably quietly for a man of his size. He sat down on the grass and I followed his lead. 

“The night is dark, girl. No one will see you, no one will see me, no one will hear us.”

My blood ran cold then and I scolded myself for being so foolish. Was he…?

My hand went back to my dagger. I looked at his neck, then to his armpit.

It must have shown in my face, what I was thinking of, because he sneered again and took another swig of his wine, before adding:

“I meant for a conversation, fuck’s sake. If I wanted to, I could’ve killed you ages ago. Why would I bother now?” He paused. “Oh. It ain’t the killin’ you’re thinkin’ of. No, I don’t do that either, girl. I’m no raper.”

‘Unlike my brother’ hung right there in the air above us, unsaid.

I sighed and I settled on the grass beside him. Clegane took another long drink from his bottle, then passed it to me.

“No, thank you. I must refuse.”

“You must?” He scoffed. “A proper little thing, ain’t ya…”

I pursed my lips in distaste at being called that. It felt too familiar for the chance acquaintances we were.

“I used to drink a lot,” I said, finally brave enough to make my tone as harsh as I really wanted it to sound. “But I do not, not anymore. I used to drink to hide my troubles. But the problem with drink is, your troubles remain just where you left them and they haunt you the next day.”

The Hound frowned and when he spoke next his voice was heavy with surprise, but devoid of judgement:

“You used to drink a lot?” He raised a dark brow. “I’d have never thought to picture that.”

“Why, because I’m not a soldier like you?” 

I knew better than to call that man a knight, but I was tempted just to show my lack of regard for the Lannister dog.

“Nah, I suppose that doesn’t matter.” He looked away then. “So what stupid things did you do to finally make you shake the habit?”

I was surprised by the question; by the suggestion of kinship between us. But I realised there was one, whether I liked it or not.

“My mother,” I hesitated, and the Hound’s dark eyes were on me again. “My mother was a mean drunk. But when she did not drink, she was even meaner.”

Clegane looked at me then and I saw a glint of recognition in those dark, angry eyes. But then, the hour of the wolf was the darkest part of the night. I might have been mistaken.

“‘D ya fuck any strangers?”

“Not enough wine in this keep to make me fuck you, if that’s what you’re after.”

He let out a laugh. The hoarse sound of it was grating like a crunch of broken glass.

“Yeah, that ain’t what I’m after, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Well, I am glad to hear we understand each other.”

“That what you were looking for when drinking, little one? Understanding?”

“Sometimes.” I sighed. “Sometimes I drank just to feel something. You know how it is. Everyone is drunk in a tavern, everyone pretends to be each other’s friend. But that isn’t so. Strangers are not your friends, they could not be farther from it.”

“Aye, they care about nothin’ and no one other than themselves.” The Hound nodded. “Drink and pleasure, little one. That’s what the world is to ya when you ain’t careful.” He took another swig from the bottle. The smell of wine hit me again and I turned my head away. 

“And you said awful things, too, did ya?” he asked.

“Hateful things,” I whispered. “That is why I stopped. It did me no good.”

“Hateful things…” The big man rolled the words on his tongue like he was curious. “Pretty little thing like you, eh?”

“Pretty things can still be poison.”

He smirked darkly at that.

“Yes, they can. You have the truth of it, girl.” 

He was silent for a while and I turned my head towards him to check if he was still there. He was. He was looking at the guard standing beside the closest entry to the garden. The guard looked young and utterly exhausted. He swayed from time to time and Clegane seemed very amused by that.

“Yeah, usually it’s knights and us soldiers drinkin’ to forget.” He pointed at the guard. “Like him there. The men that drink too much and go around lookin’ for fights. We drink our cheap wine and our ale and then we go around lookin’ for nothin’ but trouble. Sometimes fightin’ people we’re not supposed to. Sometimes… Other things.” He took another swig.

“Sometimes I would even lay with strangers to feel better. To feel something.” 

I did not know why I said that, but that got me his attention, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and say it all:

“To feel something other than my feelings. Other than dread and sadness. But that did not happen. In the morning, my nightmares were still present.”

“I understand,” he replied and it was my turn to be shocked. “Wantin’ to feel the warmth of someone’s touch.” He said that so bitterly that I almost felt the bile in my own throat. But there was sympathy in his voice, even though it was hard to read his face, half-covered with the burn scars.

“Aye, someone to take away your pain, even if for a night.”

“Yes,” I said, surprised. “That… That was it. How…?” But then I hesitated. Of course he would understand what that was like. He wore the worst thing that had happened to him right out there on his face. There was no hiding from it, no covering it. He had to wear it every day and live with others looking upon it always. 

I felt like a fool for even asking, but the question hung there in the open. Finally, Clegane spoke:

“I know it. You thought someone would care about you, keep you warm, but in the end they never did. Did they?”

“No.” This time my answer came easier. “They never did.”

“Aye, nobody cares about people like us, little one. We are the servants. We’re here to serve.” He chuckled darkly and pushed the empty bottle away. “People don’t care a lick for ya, only for what you can give them. And when you give it… Well, then you’re no better than those slaves in Essos.”

“Is that how it feels for you?”

He turned to me so quickly that I flinched and for a second I was afraid he would attack me. But all he did was look into my own eyes; long and intently. His eyes were ones that must have seen much, but mine own had turned hard over the years, too. They no longer belonged to the girl who came to King’s Landing with songs in her head.

“Yeah.” Finally, he leaned back. “What of your family? Do they care so little about you?”

I was not always a palace maid and I had not always worked in a household as grand as the royal palace. I was born as a Rivers, in a poor hovel in the Riverlands; a ghastly place north of another village that most likely no longer existed. My mother was a drunkard, a local busty tavern wench, and due to her reputation I also had two older half-sisters. They despised me as much as I despised them.

Scrubbing floors and mending clothes had been my daily bread since the moment I could walk and take care of my own needs–that was the day I finally became useful. That usefulness took me out of that gods’ forsaken village, until little by little I travelled from the Riverlands to the Crownlands, moved from house to house in search of my own destiny, and from dusk till dawn I scrubbed and cleaned the nobles’ messes. From a lowly laundry maid at the age of seven, I worked my way up on my hands and knees, until the skin of my hands perpetually blistered and cracked from soap and lye.

“No,” I replied, my tone harsher. “There is no one.”

The Hound still looked at me like he was trying to read my face for lies. But there were none. I had no reason to lie to him. I told myself once more that he would not remember we ever had this conversation come morning.

“I have no family either,” he said grimly. “No family to speak of.”

I knew the Mountain was not dead, otherwise we all at the palace would have heard of it long ago. To now hear the admission from Clegane’s own mouth that the brothers despised each other was striking. 

“So no one cares whether we live or die,” I concluded. “I imagine that is why we accept whatever people give us. It is either that, or…” I think on it. “That, or the emptiness.”

“Aye.” His voice was softer now. “But people do bad things all the time. It ain’t the end of the fuckin’ world. Not even the end of your life. So you’re still allowed to want things.”

I frowned, trying to piece together the confusing shreds of that thought. The wine must have finally run to his head.

“Are you saying even monsters deserve to be loved?”

He laughed darkly and there was little joy in that bitter sound.

“Aye, little one. Mayhaps you are a bad person, I don’t know ya. But all of us are, in a way.”

The truths he gave me struck something within me. 

“By the gods, you are honest.” I sigh. 

“I’m a lot of things, girl. Honest, for all my faults, is one of them.” He paused briefly. “A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face.”

We sat in silence a while, but then the big man had more questions for me:

“Don’t you ever have any desire to drink again? There must be a time when you think to yourself, just one, just to forget, just to numb the pain, just for tonight?”

I considered that. Then decided to remain truthful:

“Yes. I do sometimes, yes. But then I remember how miserable wine made me feel the next day and how much pain it caused me. And how much shame it brought me. The things I did… Remembering helped me not to drink again.”

I looked up and there was a strange, wistful look in Clegane’s eyes, as though he were remembering something.

“But it did feel good while it lasted, did it not? At least, for a time, you had no aches, no hurts, you did not feel. You could forget your pain for a while, did that not feel good?”

“Ah,” I smiled sadly. “But that is why the drink is so treacherous.”

“Aye,” he agreed with a smirk. “A cruel mistress.”

I nodded. 

“But it did make me forget,” I admitted. “Then I felt ashamed I forgot. And then it ruined me and I had let it, gladly. But in the moment, when you drink, yes, that is true. You forget the bad things. That does feel good. It is a perfect poison for those in pain and misery.”

I realised then that it was the sense of no judgement I was getting from conversing with the Hound that really drew me into this talk. He did not judge and he repaid me with honesty. That was so much more to offer than the monstrous kinds of misplaced affection I had found in King’s Landing over the years.

“Is it too much to ask that you tell me your name, girl?” 

The way he asked seemed like a taunt, but there was a strange tenderness in that scarred face that made me feel at ease, even as his dark eyes studied me so intently.

“Laina Rivers.”

“Laina Rivers.” He seemed amused by that, a faint smile playing on his scarred lips. “A pretty name for a bastard.”

I gave him a sharp look.

“There is a sad irony in that,” he said, obviously not afraid of my silent threats in the slightest.

He smiled and there was no humour in that half smile, but the anger in him had settled at least.

“So who was your father?” he asked. “What great lord fathered you and left you in the world to fend for yourself?”

“I do not know.” I stumbled through my words a little, because his bluntness struck me once more. “But I hate him sometimes. For doing so.”

The Hound nodded and then the anger resurfaced in the unburnt half of his face. The other still showed nothing. But there was another layer to his anger now; as though there was just a touch of sadness underneath it.

“You never sought after him? You don’t even know who he is?”

“No.” I shook my head. “My mother told me very little. And she was always angry when I asked. So I stopped asking. I was a skittish child, always desperate for her to love me. I wanted to please her, to be a good daughter. Especially since I had two sisters to compete with.”

“And did it work?” He sneered. “Did your mother love you?”

“Not the way I wanted her to,” I replied, my voice barely louder than a whisper. What was that strange power he possessed that made me want to confess to him so easily?

“She loved me in her own way, I believe. But she was not kind. I think she despised having bastard daughters, despised us for being bastards. Even though that was not our fault.”

“No, it is not your fault,” he agreed and hearing that almost brought the tears back to my eyes. 

There was sadness in his voice, I could hear it for true. The masks were starting to come off.

“It is never the fault of the child,” he continued. “Yet they have to suffer. That just shows how this fuckin’ world is, ain’t it?”

I remained silent, but he still expected me to say something. And I was too interested in the conversation to leave now.

“What about your own parents? Did they love you?”

For a long moment, Clegane remained silent, as though he wanted to give me a different answer; considered it, to avoid giving the real one. But it did not seem like his heart was in it. Finally, he spoke, with some hesitation:

“No, my father did not love me. And my mother, well – I do not know if she hated me, loved me, or just did not bother to see that I existed at all.”

It was so hard to hear that I could not speak for a long while. 

“When did you get these scars?” I asked carefully.

“I was seven.”

He knew I knew then, or at least that I suspected, and now had my suspicions confirmed. I straightened my back and he waited for me to say something, but I would not. I would not intentionally harm him with my words now, I refused. Even if he was a Lannister creature.

“But you are true-born, are you not?” I said instead, frowning, and tried to reconcile what he said with my own conviction. 

His laugh was like snarling dogs in a pit.

“That does not guarantee a parent’s love, little one. My father was a lord, you know. And a cruel, bitter man.”

That was not the moment to remark on his own bitterness and so I held my tongue.

“No, I suppose being a lord’s son does not guarantee it,” I muttered. “But for the longest time I thought… I thought that if only I had a real name, if I was true-born then maybe my mother would be kinder. Maybe she–”

“No, if she cared, she would have loved you no matter what.” The Hound sighed. My mouth nearly gaped at that answer. 

“There are many bastards who are not high-born and who still have good parents,” he said. “It is not about your name or birthright. It is about whether there is hatred in a person’s heart. And by your account, your mother did not have much love in hers.”

I sat there in shock at the profound truth that came from this man’s mouth. 

“I misjudged you,” I admitted and immediately felt my face grow hot with embarrassment.

“Aye.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I am used to it.”

“But,” I said, “that is also why I left the Riverlands. I went from place to place, finding work and getting good at being a maid. I was looking for something to replace that love. And when I came to King’s Landing… Well, now I work in the palace.” I laughed bitterly. “A lot of fucking good it got me.”

He laughed then with me, a deep and harsh guffaw.

“Aye, King’s Landing. The place where every man and woman goes when they think their talents would amount to something. So many people lie and die in this stinking hell, so many more become lordlings and queens and kings… Aye, they all think they’re something special. Something more.” He pauses and looks at me with a mixture of bitterness and amusement. “Did you fall for their lies, too?”

“I did.” I nodded. I felt ashamed for having been so naive.

“You are not alone,” he said, almost like he was mocking both of us. “This place chews people up and spits them out like they are nothing. It’s the worst of men, the biggest of fools, the lowest of scum that the Seven Kingdoms have to offer. All gathered here for the pleasure of the royals.”

I wondered then how come he was not afraid to say what he thought; why did he said it so openly. All my life I had obeyed every rule and strict guidance of my superiors. I received a lashing once and I still bore the scars of it on my back. I vowed never to let my tongue waggle ever again.

Any palace chambermaid found gossiping, or behaving in a way unbecoming of a decent lady, would be punished–or worse, thrown out and left without income, forced to leave His Grace’s employment with a stained reputation and no way to fend for herself. 

So I decided to ask:

“How is it that you are not afraid to just speak your mind? This place is crawling with whisperers. Don’t you have a lord or a master that would punish you for speaking so?”

The Hound smiled, almost as though he was amused at the thought.

“Why should I be afraid? They are all afraid of me.” He shrugged. “Who cares what these nobles think? The people who know me already know I speak my mind, and the ones who don’t have heard stories. And as for my master, I have none. I have no one to answer to besides the king, and he doesn’t care a lick about the likes of me.”

“I think I have heard the stories,” I admit.

“Aye. A famous man, me.” He leaned towards me, his voice hard again. “You know why they call me the Hound?”

I shook my head, though my eyes went to his chest where the sigil of his house was plain as day on his surcoat – three black snarling dogs on a yellow field.

“It is because I hunt down their prey for them. Anyone they ask me to, I ride them down. Criminals, traitors, even children… I have cut down many in my life and only some of them were monsters.”

We were silent then, until he spoke again:

“Many different names they call me, but I mislike that one the most.”

“I understand.”

“Do you now?”

“I do. Of course I do. A hound is a dog used for hunting and it is an animal, not a person. The man sitting here with me is just that, a man. Not a dog.” 

He is rendered speechless after that and we look at each other for the longest moment.

“How old are you, girl?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You speak with the knowledge of someone older, yet you are small and slight and so I wonder…” He reached towards me and I forced myself to stay in place. For some reason, I knew he would not harm me.

Clegane touched my shoulder and it was as if to check that I was real.

“I am old enough,” I said, slightly amused. “And I hope to talk to you again sometime. But it will dawn soon and I must go back to my duties.”

“Aye.” Clegane smiled at that and I smiled back. “Fare-thee-well, Laina Rivers.”

“Fare-you-well, Sandor Clegane.”

[ao3feed-tywin]

The Long Wolf

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/1RCeSoB

by BiPirateWitch2001

The Lone Wolf Dies but the Pack Survives, but what is a wolf to do when fighting a lion pride, and her pack is scattered and wounded? Introducing Arrana Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, twin sister to Rob Stark, she will have to deal with many hardships to keep her House from dying and claiming her rightful place. ******* Another angry fan, writing a different ending, I will do things similar to the show in some aspects but I will give it its proper consequences and continuity, or at least I will try. This is not objective, sorry. Also English is not my first language so sorry in advance. CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome This is a Tywin X OFC, because yes, you don't like it, just keep scrolling. I admit he's not a saint, no one is in GOT really. Also Sansa haters, can leave right now, she's my Queen in the North and I will give her lots of love in here.

Words: 1588, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Tywin Lannister, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Tyrion Tanner, Sandor Clegane, Robb Stark, Grey Wind | Robb Stark's Direwolf, Ghost | Jon Snow's Direwolf, Nymeria | Arya Stark's Direwolf, Arya Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, Ned Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark, Cersei Lannister, Roose Bolton

Relationships: Tywin Lannister/Original Female Character(s), Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark

Additional Tags: Age Difference, Queen in the North (A Song of Ice and Fire), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/1RCeSoB

[ao3jamiexbrienne]

as the wall did crumble and fall

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2XFShcR

by racoongal

*spoilers for 8.01 and 8.02*

a little window into their last night (and a good bye because i KNOW someone is gonna die next ep i can fuckin feel it) ((the hound x oc is shameless self insert im sorry about it skip it if u like)

Words: 291, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Grey Worm/Missandei, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Original Female Character(s), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2XFShcR