The 9th Soul

Game of Thrones Epilogue: Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark

Posted in entertainment, Special posts by Fated Blue on May 23, 2019

(So Game of Thrones finally concluded. I’ve got a lot to say about it, but I am at least satisfied with how they did the third part of the episode especially since it involved Sansa being Queen in the North. However, I think they did Sandor wrong by just killing him with his brother. I’m a SanSan fanatic by the way, so understand where my bias is coming from.

With that said, I imagined a short story of how Sandor survived Kingslanding and became Sansa’s Lord Commander of the Queensguard. Brienne is no longer guarding Sansa, so it would make sense for the Hound to become her personal bodyguard.

This epilogue also serves to tell us the purpose of Arya’s white horse. I mean, what the hell was that for, right?

Leave your comments below and tell me what you think. I’m by no means a storyteller or a fan fiction artist. I just like SanSan.)



Shortly after the slaughter of Kingslanding, a little white bird skips on the ground due to an injured wing. As it tried to hobble its way out of the city, it stumbles upon the forehead of what seemed to be a dead man.

The man slowly woke due to the chirps of the little bird atop his head as it made its way down his face.

Noticing the cuts on its right wing, the man ever so gently reaches out to the bird and reassured it “Don’t worry little bird, you’re alright now. I’ll keep you safe. Just let me catch my breath first and I’ll get you out of this hell.”

The man palms the bird with his right as he slowly struggled to sit upright.

I can still use me arms. I can still feel me toes. How the fuck did I survive that plunge?!

He then notices the ground he landed on.

I fell through a fucking barnyard filled with stacks of hay…

It was a miracle the hay didn’t catch fire when the whole city lit up. Even more of a miracle, falling debris didn’t crush him.

As if he was shocked by lightning itself, he suddenly glanced sideways and noticed he can only see with his right eye. He continued looking for something that he wish he doesn’t see. Yet there it was in all its charred splendor.

There you are. I hope you felt that because sometimes I still feel mine. Have fun in hell, big brother.

The bird chirps even more, as if it’s telling the man to go now while it’s quiet.

Bugger you.

He rose slowly and made sure the little bird doesn’t get crushed with the force of his palm. As he stood, he assessed himself.

A broken rib or two, maybe three. My head feels like a giant’s ass crushed it. My left eye is gone, but my right can still see. Blood all over, but I’m not bleeding, I think. My arms still work and my legs and feet still feel pain. I suppose that’s good.

The man walks slowly towards what used to be city’s main road towards the gates. The sun catches a glimpse of his face and it revealed a scar on its right side.

As he made his way past the many deaths and destruction the Queen’s dragon caused, he can’t help but wonder…

Are there any bloody horses left?!

The stench of death and burning flesh enveloped the city, and the warmth of embers still emanate yet he no longer felt fear from the flame. Moments later, he hears a horse’s gallop across the street.

He makes a rush to the sound. It could be a stray horse with no rider or even with a rider, he can take it by force. He can still punch, swords are on the ground. He remembers the little bird, so he first has to make sure he places it somewhere safe.

As the man neared the sounds of galloping, it indeed had a rider. A white horse making its way towards the gates. On its back is a bloody boy…

That boy looks familiar…

As the white horse neared him, his eyes grew wide as he recognized its rider…and the rider recognized him. It was Arya, all bloodied but without a hint of fear on her face.

You’re alive…” she said. “Where are you heading?”

“Out of this city. I’m done here. You?”

“Not yet. Ride with me and I’ll let you take the horse once I get to where the Queen is.”

“Don’t you see? Cersei’s dead. A smoking corpse by now,” he rasped.

“Not that queen,” she replied.

I’m not even going to ask…he thought.

“What’s that?” Arya gesturing to his right hand.

“This bird, its right wing is bleeding. I’m taking it with me to safety.”

Arya eyed him up and down. “You need a maester more than that bird.”

“Oh shut up and help me get up on that horse.”

So they rode together until Arya took her stop.

“Once you get yourself and that bird looked at, head North to Winterfell,” Arya said. “She’ll be there.”

They exchanged a few words. A few moments later, the man is seen nodding and went on his way.

Weeks passed. News of the Queen’s death reaches him, and the hailing of a new king as he ate roast hare over an open flame near Moat Cailin, his first meal of what would be a long day.

Gods I wish that was chicken.

The soldiers welcomed him as an ally and his little bird stooped on his right shoulder. It took weeks, but both of them healed up just enough to travel thanks to a charitable maester in the Crossroads Inn. He appeared like his old self save for a black eyepatch covering his left eye.

I bet Beric’s laughing his ass off in hell right now, he thought. Even Thoros, that bald cunt.

More than the news of the new king, Northern independence was declared and a coronation ceremony is to be held in Winterfell on the morrow.

She’ll be therehe remembered. It would only take less than half a day’s ride with a good horse to venture to where she is. Arya’s white horse was surprisingly fast and had quite the stamina despite carrying a heavy man.

After finishing his meal, and as his little bird chirped at the sunrise, he drank from the flagon of water he brought and went on his way.

No wine for now. Maester said I would hurt my broken head.

As he rode towards Winterfell, he remembers the day he parted ways with Arya at the ruined remains of the gates of Kingslanding.

Why the fuck do you want me to go back? I already told y-”

She’ll be there…waiting. She asked me to tell you to go back if you survived.”

Do I look like I’m going to survive the ride north? My chest is about to give way. My head is about to crack open, and I can barely see with one bloody eye!”

Arya smirked arrogantly and said,

You’ve been through worse. You’re the Hound, you won’t die yet.”

She was right. The tall woman knocked him down more than his brother ever could and he lived to tell the tale.

What could your sister want with me?”

“I don’t know. When you get there, ask her.”

The man arrives at the gates of Wintefell. The sun has just started to set, and it made all the white around him look like gold.

People’s cheers are heard, loud voices of triumph blended with boisterous laughter, all accompanied by festive songs. The war is over. They’re a sovereign kingdom once more. Winter has come and gone.

He felt a mix of excitement and fear, but mostly fear.

I should head back. I should…I should go.

Hs little bird chirped and flew upwards above the gates and disappeared into the festivities.

Seven hells…he sighed.

The man nudged his horse forward, the guards recognized him and let the man in.

“We’re expecting you,” one guard said.

The man turned and asked “How?”

“A raven was received from Kingslanding two days ago. Sent by the King himself.”

He still couldn’t believe a cripple is now a king. The world really has changed.

“The Queen is expecting you. Please proceed to the main hall. I heard there’s a lot of chicken to be served.”

The man smirked and made his way to where the Queen in the North wanted him.


The Queen in the North looks at the crowd of lords, ladies, soldiers, farmers, and commoners all coming together to celebrate her crowning and the end of winter. She sat on her throne as the people drink and share of what remains of the food they stored for winter.

Better to eat them now than let them spoil. No need to worry about food running out. Winter is over and the maester tells of a long spring with plenty of good weather for crops and farms.

It seemed almost a lifetime ago the when the walls of Winterfell heard the sound of laughter and cheers. She looks on and the candles, the scent of roast poultry and pork, and the smell of freshly opened barrels of ale made her remember a time before she was queen.

It seemed so long since I left him to his drink, the Queen thought. I’ve assigned every man in the North to watch out for him, and yet no raven had paid me a visit other than the one my brother sent two days ago.

The Hound lives,” the letter from the raven read. “He marches north on a white horse and had just arrived at Moat Cailin,” and that’s all my brother wroteI won’t lie; his power frightens me and many times I imagine a lone crow in the yard is his medium.

This time, however, my brother’s visions gave me relief. Had he always known about my fondness?

The Queen remembers the day before her sister left for Kingslanding.

It was the morning after the celebration of the defeat of the Night King. She was reading logs the maester has prepared which detailed how much food was left, the number of injured soldiers, restoration plans, how many would remain in Winterfell, and how many would march south with the Dragon Queen and Jon.

This will be Cersei’s last days as queen, she thought.

As she moved from one log to the other, she sees her little sister Arya readying her horse. She sets the logs down, asked to be excused from the maester, and went down the steps to where Arya was.

Arya, where are you headed?

Surprised, Arya stops as she makes clear her intentions to the Lady of Winterfell.

I’m going south. To Kingslanding.

But, why? There’s nothing for you there. There’s a war, Arya. Let the Dragon Queen and Jon handle it.

I’m going to kill Cersei. She’s on my list, the last name.

Knowing there’s no stopping the one who ended the Night King, and knowing how stubborn her little sister is, the Lady instead insists on bringing a few men with Arya.

No need,” Arya said. “They would slow me down. And besides, I think the Hound is on his way too. He left earlier. He’ll keep me company, just like old times,” she reassured her worried sister.

The Lady wasn’t surprised as much as she was worried; worried much less for her sister than with the man she’ll be joining. She knew why he would go south, but she doesn’t know if he’ll come back. At least she knows Arya can handle herself.

The Lady remembers the night that man came to her chamber in Kingslanding and asked her to leave with him. The city was burning, she could hear screams, and the fire glowed green. In the end, he took a song and a kiss and left her with nothing but a bloody cloak.

Last night was the first time they saw each other in years, and now she thinks that might be the last.

Arya,” the Lady finally spoke. “He may not come back from where he’s going, but if he does,” the Lady paused, “…tell him to go back North, to Winterfell. Tell him I’ll be waiting.

I don’t understand, why w-

The Lady held Arya’s right hand firmly, as if begging “Just please. But, don’t tell him now or he might make sure he doesn’t return. That’s how he is, I know you know.

Arya didn’t fully understand what her sister wants, but she promised anyway and left.

And now he’s coming to me. Thank you, Arya. Wherever you are, I bid you good fortune.

She was approached by a few lords, all of them polite in saying their pleasantries. Others introduced their sons to her, their intentions of courtship cloaked in strong perfumes and promises of adventure.

The North has a queen, and so it must also have a king. She sighed.

The Queen, as polite and courteous as she has learned to be, wanted to escape her suitors. She’s not interested in any courtship right now, and she has a whole kingdom to look after. Romance is the last thing a good ruler must consider.

I’m also waiting for someone. How long must he keep a Queen waiting?

“Lords, ladies, I bid you excuse me for a moment. I have some important matters to discuss with my maester. Maester, would you join me?” She rose from her throne and headed inside the keep.

“Your Grace, what have we to discuss?”

“I apologize, maester. I just need to go back to my chamber. I feel tired.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Entertaining lords, ladies, and their would-be suitors is quite a tiring experience for any queen, especially today with us celebrating both your coronation and the end of winter. Should I prepare some milk of the poppy?”

“There would be no need, maester. Thank you.” She gestured to her handmaidens “Ladies, enjoy the feast,” and she left for her chamber.

The Queen stared outside her window, looking at the expanse of the Northern Kingdom. The sun has just started to set, and it made the pristine white of the snow where the light hit appear golden.

She couldn’t help but wonder what the future would be. Would she be a great queen? Would the people love her?

The king probably knows…

Then she heard chirping. A small, white bird managed to find its way into her room and quietly nestled itself on her feather-soft pillows.

“Are you lost, little bird?” the Queen let it climb onto her left finger and gently brushed its neck with her right. The bird chirped back, making the Queen grow fonder. “I used to have a wolf. Her name was Lady. She’s gone now, but perhaps you would like that name.”

She was then disturbed by sounds of gentle knocks on her door. “Your Grace, I have news.” It was the maester.

“Come in,” the Queen replied.

“Your Grace, I must apologize, but I’ve just received word of a new guest making his way to the main hall.”

“Maester, I’m sure they know how to feed themselves,” the Queen sighed.

“Yes but,” the Maester paused, “It’s the Hound, Your Grace. He was riding a white horse, just like what the King wrote.”

It was all she could do to contain her happiness, yet a smile and the flush on her face betrayed her all the same.

My knight on his white horse.

“Thank you, maester. I’ll come down shortly. I just need to prepare. Please, summon my handmaidens. Make sure we serve our chickens.”

“Right away, Your Grace.”

Just before the maester went to fetch the handmaidens, he notices the little animal clutching the Queen’s finger.

“Your Grace, I may be mistaken but,” the maester said politely, “I believe it’s the first time I’ve seen this bird all the way North. It nests near Kingslanding, and is a rare sighting. Did you receive this as a gift from a lord? A suitor, perhaps?”

“No, it just found its way into my chamber.”

“I see, then perhaps what you have is the little bird the Hound is looking for.”

This is his little bird? She was surprised as the bird chirped even more.

The maester continued. “He was heard asking lords, ladies, and all manners of people if they’ve seen a small, white bird flying around the castle. Perhaps it’s his.”

Another smile, another blush. “Thank you, maester. Tell our guest his little bird is with the Queen, and that it’s hers now.” She demanded so gently and with light humor.

“Your Grace, with all due respect, it’s the Hound. He’s not known to be charitable or good with jests. He might cause trouble,” the maester warned.

The Queen smiled once more “Maester, I assure you he won’t. Tell him,” the Queen paused to think of the right words without betraying any fondness. “Tell him if he wants his little bird back, to meet the Queen in the private room inside the keep once the festivities are done and all the guests have left, and not before.”

The maester could barely hide his confusion and surprise, but he obeyed all the same.

As the door closed and the maester went on his way, the Queen looked out the window and noticed hints of stars in the sky.

It’s going to be a beautiful night.

She smiled at the bird lightly clutching her finger still and said “Thank you for bringing him to me.”

And the little bird chirped proudly at the Queen.

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