The SanSan Safe Haven

Safe for all sansan fans - book and show alike. Inspiration, art, fanfic recs , meta, head canons & prompts. Hate will not be tolerated. Happy shipping!

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“The coarse weave was scratchy against her skin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine.”

[banadraw]

“No nightmares”

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.

Wounded warrior unconscious, worried birdie weeping night and day.

twitter / Kofi

[theelliedoll]

He cupped her under the jaw, raising her chin, his fingers pinching her painfully. “I never got my song.”

“I … I know a song about Florian and Jonquil.”

Sandor Clegane snorted. “Pretty thing, and such a bad liar.“

[la-mannakana]

ASoIaF/GoT: Gravedigger by MannaKana

As far as I am concerned, in the REAL version of the series (books!) Sandor Clegane is currently at the Quiet Isle, burying the dead as part of his own path to redemption. (Yes I buy into this theory, NOT the atrocious “ending” of the show.)

[murmel-malt]

found and cleaned up an old Sansa doodle for u all

[vicious-xuan]

Farewell my giant. 

[sansansource]

Sandor Clegane unfastened his cloak and tossed it at her. Sansa clutched it against her chest, fists bunched hard in the white wool. The coarse weave was  s c r a t c h y  against her skin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine. 

[littlefeatherr]

“There are many sorts of outlaws, just as there are many sorts of birds.”

—

Septon Meribald, in his “Broken Men” speech about Sandor Clegane.

MANY

SORTS 

OF

BIRDS.

OUTLAWS AND BIRDS. 

(via the-littlest-birdd)

[korolevasansa]

He is a dog, just as he says. A half-wild, mean-tempered dog that bites any hand that tries to pet him, and yet will savage any man who tries to hurt his masters.

[akita-sensei]

Sansa my brave girl 🐺

[goldshitter]

GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey's sword

[lafiebre]

George R.R Martin: The Lion's Paw / Lion's Tooth business, on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom... but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it's a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[chippedcupwrites]

Turn your antisocial hound into a domesticated lapdog with one simple trick. (1). Be Sansa Stark.

[varryvoo]

𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙙

[thebrothersclegane]

I’d Walk Through the Flames For You by K-i-e-r-a

[iamnedstarksmissinghead]

[lunaathorne]

sansa stark meme: [1/2] books/seasons → a storm of swords

brave. i am a stark, yes, i can be brave.

[masha-russia]

🔥 A Song of Ice and Fire project → A Gifset per every chapter

↪ A Game of Thrones, XXX, Eddard, VII

It was the king’s voice that put an end to it … the king’s voice and twenty swords. Jon Arryn had told them that a commander needs a good battlefield voice, and Robert had proved the truth of that on the Trident. He used that voice now. “STOP THIS MADNESS,” he boomed, “IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!”

The Hound went to one knee. Ser Gregor’s blow cut air, and at last he came to his senses. He dropped his sword and glared at Robert, surrounded by his Kingsguard and a dozen other knights and guardsmen. Wordlessly, he turned and strode off, shoving past Barristan Selmy. “Let him go,” Robert said, and as quickly as that, it was over.

“Is the Hound the champion now?” Sansa asked Ned.

“No,” he told her. “There will be one final joust, between the Hound and the Knight of Flowers.”

But Sansa had the right of it after all. A few moments later Ser Loras Tyrell walked back onto the field in a simple linen doublet and said to Sandor Clegane, “I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser.”

“I am no ser,” the Hound replied, but he took the victory, and the champion’s purse, and, for perhaps the first time in his life, the love of the commons. They cheered him as he left the lists to return to his pavilion.