Sandor's childhood appears to have been overshadowed by his older brother Gregor's brutality and martial prowess. When Sandor was seven, his father explained the burns inflicted by Gregor by claiming his bedding caught fire. There are rumors of a sister who died young in mysterious circumstances, and their father was killed in a hunting accident shortly after King Robert I Baratheon came to the throne, which is also implied to have been suspicious, leaving the family estates to Gregor.
Sandor left to join the Lannister household the same day Gregor came into his inheritance. He claims to have killed a man when he was twelve years old, possibly during Robert's Rebellion, as he was part of Tywin Lannister's host during the Sack of King's Landing. Sandor has never taken a knight's vows.
Ser Barristan Selmy unhorsed Sandor during a tourney a year ago. Sandor is a huge and heavily-muscled man. The left side of his face is gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a heavy brow, while the right side is a burned ruin with a stump for an ear. Slick black flesh is pocked with craters and deep cracks that ooze red and wet. The scars extend down to his throat. There is a twisted mass of scar around his right eye, which is still good. Sandor's nose is large and hooked, and his long hair is dark and thin and brushed so that it covers the right since no hair grows there. Sandor's eyes are grey and bone shows on his jaw.Sandor speaks in a rasping voice. He has a temper,but is dutiful.
The Hound regularly wears an olive-green cloak over plain, soot-dark armor and a distinctive helm sculpted into the shape of a snarling dog's head.He also sometimes wears a brown roughspun tunic and studded leather jerkin. Sandor wields a longsword, a warhammer,and a dagger. His stallion is a heavy courser named Stranger.
Basic Information
Sandor Clegane (Self explanatory) San-dor Cle-gane (Self explanatory) Nickname/Alias The Hound, Dog, Clegane. Meaning Sandor is a Hungarian name that means: Defender of Men.br>
Origin It was given to him by his sister. Title The King's Dog. Pet Name Hound, or Dog. ID Number None. Signature None. Gender Male. Gender Role Masculine. Orientation Straight. Real Age 27-30. Age Appearance He looks in his thirties. Birthday Unknown. Deathday Unknown. Birthplace Clegane Keep. Astrological Sign Unknown. Zodiac Sign Unknown. Species Human. Ethnicity Westerosi. Blood Type Unknown. Preferred Hand Ambidextrous Facial Type Gaunt. Eye Color Grey. Hair Color Black/Brown. Hairstyle Long. Skin ToneWhite. Complexion Burned. Makeup None. Body Type Huge and heavily-muscled man. Build Muscular. Height 6'8". Weight (In pounds) Cup Size None. Facial Hair Beard. Shoe Size Unknown. Birthmarks/scars He has scars all over, the most noticable being the burn on right side of his face. Distinguishing FeaturesHooked nose and heavy brow. Health Healthy. EnergyA lot. Memory Very well, unless he's been drinking. Senses Depends. Allergies Unknown. Handicaps Limp in his leg. Medication Ale. Phobias Fire. Addictions Drinking and killing. Mental DisordersUnknown.
When tended with care it fills a hearth with warmth and necessity. The flames lick below a pot filled to the brim of food to be divided amongst a family. The sound of the crackling wood becomes a soothing feeling within a child that is being rocked within his mother's arms. However, when misused in the selfish nature of men, through fire and blood, it becomes the inferno of the shattered hopes and dreams. It consumes within a simple moment. The raging flames destroy everything in its wake. The anger and destruction leaving ashes falling as though it were blackened snow. The flaming red marks on skin.
Leaning back against the warm stone, the warmth seeped passed the thin layer of her blue tunic. Violet eyes watched with a love and tenderness that only a mother could bear as Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion flew back and forth through the clouds. They were the exception to fire. For her dragons were fire made flesh. An embodiment of the sweet calming nature of flames and the raging inferno of death. Like every child they had their flaws. They were only learning right from wrong at present but that made no difference. They were still children. Creatures of the old Valyria yes, but children all the same.
My children.
โWhat are you thinking about, Khaleesi?โ Jorah's low voice broke her concentration from her children.
Turning her head slightly, the silver platinum locks caressing her cheeks fell before her eyes. Brushing back a strand and tucking it behind her ear she hummed softly โMy dragons.โ A small smile forming at the last word.
Jorah lifted his eyes to the sky briefly before returning to lock with her own. โAre you worried for them?โ
โNo. Yes.โ Her voice spoke with that melodic tone as a sigh escaped her lips. โWe faced warlocks. Masters who made humans...men, women, and children slaves.โ Her eyes watched as Drogon slowly lowered himself to the ground. โNone could take my children from me. No one ever will.โ The steel in her tone leaving room for arguments.
Did I just send you a little snippet of my writing to get you intrigued enough to write with me... why yes, darling. I 100% did.
My name isย Daenerys Stormborn of theย House Targaryen,First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea,Breaker of Chains, andMother of Dragons.
[ Thank god for Missandei for being the amazing human she is and reading my 3 lines of titles for me! ]
But noโ while i am shamelessly seeking a writing opportunity with you, the point is I wish to create aย worth-wild storyline with you that is filled adventure, mystique, maybe even a modern au world. That has magic and legend with some dragons slipped in between. I hope you agree and if you do you can shoot me a message. I have a discord if that is easier for you and would be more than happy to share that your way if you wish. Let me know darling, and if not I hope you enjoy a short bit of my writing.
Maya like all her siblings had been through a lot since their father was killed and Robb and their mother were murderd at the Red Wedding. Maya knew that Arya had taken care of the Freys and she was glad about that,but she kept her secret for now mostly because she knew Sansa wouldn't really understand what Arya had become.ย
Maya herself had killed many of their enemies and those who caused her family harm in any way with the poisons that she learned about in Dorne from the Red viper himself and she had learned their ways of fighting as well which she used when needed.ย
She had come home and met both her sisters once she did as well as Bran and it was a lovely reunion, one she knew would come eventually but she never knew it would be in the home that was rightdully their's.ย
When Jon and Daenerys came to Winterfell she watched from the gates like her sister had seeing the armies coming and the dragons flying over them and Maya smiled to this watching them in wonder,though Shadow wasn't too happy about them and so she pet her black Direwolf's massive head "Easy girl they are here to help us" she then smiled again going to the gates and seeing Arya run into Jon's arms and she smiled to this watching them see each other after so long and after that she came to him and hugged him as well Shadow nudging Ghost "We are the ony two Starks still with our wolves go figure" she told him and watched him nod "Aye,it is interesting indeed" he then introduced Daenerys to them and Maya bowed in respect watching her now.ย
When they all went to talk about things in the grate hall Maya smiled,though she had to be there because she had tod Jon that she had faced the White Walkers and the Night King himself more times than perhaps even Jon himself did and she was still here and so she told them about those times and how her sword was made from Dragon Glass smoothed down to be a blade unlike the roughness of the glass it's self and the loprds watced this surprised when she showed them the sword,though none of them seemed to understand the engraving on the blade which was silver and gold in color, but Maya did and she smiled again "It says one can always fins the light in the darkest of places" she then watched Jon ask her what the sword's name was and she smiled "I call her Dark Slayer" se then put it away and watche the others "I will keave yopu all to it now Jon this is your plan so go on and tell thm what you came here to say and I will see you all later| she then smied to Sansa and nodded to Dany walking out for now with Shadow behind her.ย
The place hadn't changed all that much and when she looked up at te place her parents would always watch them from she coud almost see them there smiling down to thwm and she tried not to cry because she missed them so very much.ย
Maya went to the training grounds taking out her black featherd arrows and putting them in the bow that had wolves on it's tips and symbles that she had learned the meaning of long ago and she coverd her eyes with a blindfold fiering at the targets and never missing a shot all in the center as well and after that she took them back putting them on her back again and she took out her black bladed sword that had the language of old on it that said 'one can always find the light in the darkest of places' and because of this she called the sword Dark Slayer.
She took it from the sheath that had a black wolf on it and she started to practice as if she had people attacking her and she moved with the quickness of a snake and the strength of a wolf using the moves she learned when attending Arya's classes at times in King's Landing and the moves she learned in Dorne along with some of those she made up herself and when Shadow nuged her she looked to the side seeingย someone standing there and she knew who it was just by the way he looked "Well now I never expected to see you here Hound, but I am glad that Jon got you to join us, because we are going to need all the help we can get in this war" she smiled after saying that and sighed as well and Shadow watched him now as well sitting by Maya's side for the moment.
When the snows fall, and the white winds blow; the lone wolf dies. But the pack survives. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. I have always been a Stark, and I will remain one forever. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel; but I made broken look beautiful. I charge we are all here for the same reasons. And I certainly hope we can achieve some peace in this gathering. I would very much like to get to know you. I am curious in expanding my regional knowledge of those in the lands. I cannot rely on stories anymore. So, I send this raven with my most heartfell wish we might become allies. You would benefit from a friend in the North.
Sincerely, Sansa Stark.
There are no heroes in real life; monsters always win.
Sansa could still hear the manโs raspy voice as he spoke the words to her. In her mind she had truly believed that he was merely trying to frighten her. Not that it had taken much, not at the beginning of her time in Kingโs Landing. During this time she had still believed the world was good, that most people were as the songs she had heard, and women and children wouldnโt be beaten by the very men that was meant to protect them. Over the course the following months and years spent as a captive it had become harder and harder to frighten the young girl. Already she had experienced more in her time than most would people have experienced in their lives. It wasnโt something that Sansa cared for people to know about; in her mind it wasnโt something that was meant to raise pity in others. Instead it was merely a fact. As if stating she was a Stark or that she had red hair.
The Hound had frightened her that day and she had promised never to allow herself to become that. Though at the time Sansa knew she was more than positive there wouldnโt come a time when sheโd need to kill someone. She was a lady after all and ladies werenโt meant to get their hands dirty. It was the men that was meant to protect them, the men that would be doing the killing, and sheโd never have to worry about putting herself in that type of situation.
Perhaps that would still be true if she hadnโt left Winterfell for Kingโs Landing all those years ago. If she stayed behind, allowing her father to make another match for her, someone brave and kind and strong, like he had promised, sheโd still have her innocence, sheโd still have her family. Pointless to think about now, though, there was nothing that could send her backwards in time to warn her younger self about the dangers that awaited her outside the walls of Winterfell, of the losses that sheโd endure over the years, and the torment and heartache that would follow not long after leaving. Changing the past was impossible, it was her future that she was currently worried about.
โItโs not what I want, itโs what honor demands,โ the words had sounded hollow as she looked at the man that had rescued her from one monster only to deliver her to another, one far worse than anything Joffrey might have been. He had claimed not to know what would await her at the marriage of Ramsay Bolton, perhaps telling the truth, believing that her status as a Stark, as a true holder of Winterfell, would have been enough to keep her safe. There was a small part of Sansa that had wished without a doubt that it was the truth. If there was one thing that Lord Baelish excelled at though it was gathering secrets, knowing things about others that wouldnโt have seen the light of day otherwise. Little doubt was in Sansaโs mind that he hadnโt known about the hunting that he had done in the woods, the flaying the Boltonโs were famous for, or the amount of torment they would be willing to put a person through.
The Hound had been right, she knew this now, the world was built on killers, on people that werenโt afraid to take back their rights, their protection. At the beginning she hadnโt wanted to be that type of person, her kindness was still something that Sansa held tightly against her chest, wanting to believe there might be good out in the world, willing to give her own parts at times, but she wasnโt going to allow herself to be another victim or pawn in someoneโs game. Over the years she had learned how to play the game, how to play others, and certainly how to do so in order to help her reach her status. It wasnโt about winning the Iron Throne, or even wanting to rule the Seven Kingdoms, as others had learned for that reason, but her own ability to stay free. She had been a prisoner in Kingโs Landing, tormented, abused, married off as an afterthought to do nothing more than punish her, and then a prisoner within her own home. Being a prisoner for someone else was the last thing that Sansa would allow for herself.
She had promised Jon that she wouldnโt have allowed herself to be taken by Ramsay or his men before the Battle of the Bastards and it was the one thing that she still continued to mean. Whether it was for Ramsay, whose screams could be heard above the dungeons in Winterfell as his own dogs attacked and mauled the man until the screams died as did he, or Cersei, or anyone else that wished to use her as a bargaining chip. Death would be the only thing that would be waiting for her if that happened once more.
Even though the Knights of the Vales had merely come to Winterfell, to help the North and give their allegiance because of Lord Baelish, there were many of them that was still there for Sansa, for the true heir to the North. Once the truth had been revealed about Petyrโs hand in the demise of Lord Stark, of selling Sansa to the Boltonโs, and the way he had handled his business, Sansa knew that many of the Knights would have willing to come to serve House Stark. The blood had been washed away in the Great Hall as Sansa had tried her hardest to push the image from her mind. It didnโt matter that Petyr had rescued her, perhaps he truly did care, in his own and twisted way, he was part of the reason that she had found herself without a family, as well as the many scars that was still littered across her body and would never properly heal because of Ramsayโs touch.
โThereโs a rider at the gate, my lady, says he wants to talk to the Stark in charge,โ she could tell from the young manโs blushing red cheeks there was probably more choice words that had been involved but unfit for a ladyโs ear to hear. Jon was still in on his journey South, not that it mattered with Sansa taking over many of the responsibilities that came with running the house. Deft footsteps moved from the Great Hall, passing over the spot where Petyr had been executed, and making her way outside. Honestly she was hoping it was merely someone passing through, the reserves being limited as they continued to prepare for the long winter that had suddenly approached on them. Of course there werenโt many people sheโd turn away, not when the only alternative would be freezing out in the weather, and she wrapped the cloak around her body heading toward the gate.
