nobodysuspectsthebutterfly:

Lady by bubug

Her bedchamber was black as pitch. Sansa barred the door and fumbled through the dark to the window. When she ripped back the drapes, her breath caught in her throat.
The southern sky was aswirl with glowing, shifting colors, the reflections of the great fires that burned below. Baleful green tides moved against the bellies of the clouds, and pools of orange light spread out across the heavens. The reds and yellows of common flame warred against the emeralds and jades of wildfire, each color flaring and then fading, birthing armies of short-lived shadows to die again an instant later. Green dawns gave way to orange dusks in half a heartbeat. The air itself smelled burnt, the way a soup kettle sometimes smelled if it was left on the fire too long and all the soup boiled away. Embers drifted through the night air like swarms of fireflies.
Sansa backed away from the window, retreating toward the safety of her bed. I’ll go to sleep, she told herself, and when I wake it will be a new day, and the sky will be blue again. The fighting will be done and someone will tell me whether I’m to live or die. “Lady,” she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead.
Then something stirred behind her, and a hand reached out of the dark and grabbed her wrist.
Sansa opened her mouth to scream, but another hand clamped down over her face, smothering her. His fingers were rough and callused, and sticky with blood. “Little bird. I knew you’d come.” The voice was a drunken rasp.
Outside, a swirling lance of jade light spit at the stars, filling the room with green glare. She saw him for a moment, all black and green, the blood on his face dark as tar, his eyes glowing like a dog’s in the sudden glare. Then the light faded and he was only a hulking darkness in a stained white cloak.

–A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin

(via lyannas)

heonhoneydew:

“What kept you going?

Sandor Clegane *looks off in the distance, flute music churning, birds making a circle wreath around SANSA STARK*

“Uh, hate.”

(via lyannas)

mathiaarkoniel:

Commissioned illustration of Sansa and Sandor from Chapter 29 of A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin.

“He squatted silently before her, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. Somehow, the fear had gone away.

The silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. “He was no true knight,” she whispered to him.“

(via dammitsandor)

  • me: *identifies most painful, most doomed ship*
  • me: ah, yes. this seems like a responsible place to invest my heart and soul.

thestrangerskiss:

The Serpentine by MathiaArkoniel


“… But one day I’ll have a song from you, whether you will it or no.”


A new commission by “The Stranger’s Kiss” blog to artist Mathia Arkoniel, that looks at Sandor and Sansa’s conversation in A Clash of Kings that begins with an an accidental encounter on the Serpentine steps, and ends outside of her chamber doors, with the Hound making a daring promise to the little bird…

(via autisticstannis)

american-eater:

do u ever ship something so hard

that you literally cant imagine either of them w someone else

like its not that you dont want to imagine them with someone else 

its that you cant

(Source: daryldixons, via spookycaryl-ismoving-deactivate)

duskygrayknights:

but morning person + not morning person could make the worst (or maybe the best?) otp

“Gooooood morning dear :)” “fuck you and everything you stand for”

(Source: darkmetinenephelae, via redals)