Tag: got

thefeatherofhope:

Ray: I think some of the men are a bit afraid of you. 

Sandor: I’m used to it.  

Ray: When I found you, I thought you’d been dead for days. I was gonna give you a proper burial and then you coughed.  I reckoned you were gonna die by the time I loaded you on the wagon, but you didn’t. Now, I reckoned you’d die a dozen more times over the next few days, but you didn’t. What kept you going?

Sandor: Hate.

Ray: No, there’s a reason you’re still here. 

Sandor: Aye, there’s a reason. I’m a big fucker and I’m tough to kill. Ray: No, a reason. Gods aren’t done with you yet. What matters, I believe, is that there’s something greater than us. And whatever it is, it’s got plans for Sandor Clegane.

Sandor: You didn’t know me back in my time. You don’t know the things I’ve done. If the gods are real…why haven’t they punished me? 

Ray: They have.

thestrangerskiss:

Bad News at the Crossroads Inn by linhsiang

This illustration is meant to depict Sandor’s encounter with Gregor’s men where he learns of and reacts to Sansa’s marriage to the Imp, as described in ASOS:

The Hound poured a cup of wine for Arya and another for himself, and drank it down while staring at the hearthfire. “The little bird flew away, did she? Well, bloody good for her. She shit on the Imp’s head and flew off.”

bighound-littlebird:

sophieturner:

Prayer can be helpful, I hear.

 Afterward, as Pod was removing the cups and platters, Sansa asked Tyrion for leave to visit the godswood.

He had become accustomed to his wife’s nightly devotions. She prayed at the royal sept as well, and often lit candles to Mother, Maid, and Crone. Tyrion found all this piety excessive, if truth be told, but in her place he might want the help of the gods as well. “I confess, I know little of the old gods,” he said, trying to be pleasant. “Perhaps someday you might enlighten me. I could even accompany you.”

“No,” Sansa said at once. “You … you are kind to offer, but … there are no devotions, my lord. No priests or songs or candles. Only trees, and silent prayer. You would be bored.”

“No doubt you’re right.” She knows me better than I thought. “Though the sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace.” Tyrion waved her off. “I won’t intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there.” He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but Sansa was so dutiful she might actually tell him, and he didn’t think he wanted to know. – Tyrion VI