Le Cygne

Here's the list of GRRM's favorite fantasy films, romance features prominently in several, including Beauty and the Beast (La Belle et la Bête). He also mentions liking Disney fairytales. https://www.thedailybeast.com/george-rr-martin-game-of-thrones-writers-top-10-fantasy-films I also put some excerpts from conversations about the Beauty and the Beast show here.

Glad you liked it! It's a fun story to read!

There sure are a lot of fun layers to discover in the books! It seems like GRRM was poring over the classics for inspiration as he wrote the various stories. I found these differences in the preview chapters and the published chapters, and thought I'd add them here. GRRM refined the passages to better effect: Sansa preview chapter in A Clash of Kings (U.S. paperback edition) I wish the Hound were still here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers and offered to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she'd been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she'd kept it. The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the safety of the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside . . . she could scarcely imagine it. Sansa published chapter in A Storm of Swords I wish the Hound were here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she'd been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she'd kept it. The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside . . . she could scarcely imagine it. Sansa preview chapter in A Clash of Kings (U.S. paperback edition) They pulled me from my horse and would have killed me, if not for the Hound, Sansa remembered, resentful. Sansa published chapter in A Storm of Swords The same smallfolk who pulled me from my horse and would have killed me, if not for the Hound.

As part of the reread, I found many echoes for Sansa/Sandor from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. This was a nice find: "My little friend!" said he, "I wish I were in a quiet island with only you; and trouble, and danger, and hideous recollections removed from me." Here's an excerpt from an article Emily and Charlotte Brontë’s Re-reading of the Byronic hero by Cristina Ceron that discusses Mr. Rochester as a Byronic hero, and Jane as a strong counterpoint, and calls to mind the Sansa and Sandor dynamic in the books: Charlotte [Bronte's] use of the gothic subtext throughout the novel is functional to the development of the plot, and it serves the classical cathartic purpose of creating suspense, fear and sympathy towards the characters. The gothic allure is never let loose, and is always mitigated by the domestic nature of the narration... The only diversion from the realistic path of the narration is carried out at the last turning point of the novel, when Jane and Rochester experience a kind of telepathy, and consequently Jane runs back in order to save him from misery... In fact, the strongest dynamics the novel puts forth are in the agonistic relation the protagonists build up from the very beginning when, far from acquiescing in her master’s wishes, Jane seems eager to counter them, in order to stress her individuality. Moreover, at the highest of her crises, Jane... never bends the knee to anyone, not even to Rochester, as she lucidly explains when she sets social distinctions apart from inner nature: “I feel akin to him—I understand the language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him”. Jane’s feeling of affinity with Rochester is reciprocated by him, not only in terms of individual worth and dignity, but more prominently in terms of a cosmic bond which seems to reach beyond their will... In building up such a complex character, utterly conventional in social role and upbringing, yet totally innovative in soul and existential expectations, Charlotte probably aimed to rehabilitate the extra-rational side of the human being, which was hardly accepted for powerful characters such as the Byronic heroes, and totally discarded in relation to proper positive female models. She wanted Jane to be admired and sympathized with by the reader, not in spite of her irrational and fiery soul, but because of it, as if to demonstrate that the dark—at times gothic—side of the human being is not necessarily dangerous and shameful, but that it can render a woman strong and indomitable, if duly kept in check.

From A Natural History of the Romance Novel by Pamela Regis: The romance novel is old. The form is stable. Since the birth of the novel in English, the romance novel as I have defined it here - the story of the courtship, the betrothal of one or more heroines - has provided a form for novels. What is more, the form has attracted writers of acknowledged genius - Richardson, Austen, Bronte, Trollope, and Forster to name just the ones examined here. Using the eight essential elements of the romance novel form as identified - society defined, the meeting, the barrier, the attraction, the declaration, the point of ritual death, the recognition, and the betrothal - doubled, amplified, diminished, echoed, made as comic or as serious as context required - these and other canonical romance writers have employed this form to free their heroines from the barrier and free them to choose the hero. Joy and happiness, both for the heroine and hero, and for the reader, follow. Trollope, Forster, Richardson, Bronte, and Austen are in the literary canon and on required reading lists; the romance novels they wrote were best sellers in their day. The romance novel, as we have seen, is a species of comedy with the heroine displacing the hero as the central character. The great societal shifts toward affective individualism, property rights, and companionate marriage, coincide with the rise of the novel in English... The courtship novel, up to the twentieth century, is the story of the heroine's struggle for one or more of these great goals... The heroine's and hero's struggles in each of these novels are not trivial yet the tone in these novels is often lighthearted. When the outcome is freedom and joy, and in the romance novel these are the outcome, the tone can be light, even if the issues are serious. In the twentieth century the romance novel become the most popular form of the novel in North America. Rather than achieving affective individualism, property rights, and companionate marriage through courtship as the earlier heroines did, the twentieth-century heroine begins the novel with these in place. The book still focuses on her, but the hero steps forward to take an equal place with her. The novel chronicles the heroine's taming of the dangerous hero or her healing of the injured hero, or both. Taming and healing can work the other way as well. Heroines can need taming and healing, too... In chronicling the courtship through the eight essential elements of the romance novel, the twentieth-century romance focuses on emotion. Literature that focuses on emotion and that ends happily veers towards the sentimental. Romance novels are, therefore, profoundly out of step with the prevailing contemporary high culture simply because of this emotional sensibility. My litany throughout this book has been that, despite their quality, popular romance novels of the twentieth century might appear on the New York Times Best Sellers List, but they are never reviewed in the newspaper itself. Other popular forms - mystery, science fiction, and horror - are. Romance novels are excluded, I suspect, because of an ignorance of the form itself and of the sensibility - the reliance on emotion - that suffuses the form. Emotion is suspect. Emotion is especially suspect when it is joyful, and every romance novel ends in joy. The practical critics of prevailing high culture ignore romances. Academic critics, as we have seen, also condemn romances. I have already offered a defense of the romance, but would like to add one more observation here. The story of the courtship and betrothal of one or more heroines is, finally, about freedom and joy. In the twentieth century, for the most part, romances are stories written by woman and read by women. They feature women who have achieved the ends fostered by affective individualism, control over their own property, and companionate marriage. In other words, romance heroines make their own decisions, make their own livings, and choose their own husbands. I admit, unapologetically, that these values are profoundly bourgeois. I assert that they are the impossible dream of millions of women in many parts of the world today. To attack this very old genre, so stable in its form, so joyful in its celebration of freedom, is to discount, and perhaps even to deny, the most personal hopes of millions of women around the world. (fixed typos)

From Beauty and the Beast: Diary of a Film by Jean Cocteau: I have decided to write a diary of La Belle et la Bête as the work on the film progresses. After a year of preparations and difficulties, the moment has now come to grapple with a dream. Apart from the numerous obstacles which exist in getting a dream onto celluloid, the problem is to make a film within the limits imposed by a period of austerity. But perhaps these limitations may stimulate imagination, which is often lethargic when all means are placed at its disposal. Everybody knows the story by madame Leprince de Beaumont, a story often attributed to Perrault, because it is found next to "Peau d'Ane" between those bewitching covers of the Bibliothèque Rose. The postulate of the story requires faith, the faith of childhood. I mean that one must believe implicitly at the very beginning and not question the possibility that the mere picking of a rose might lead a family into adventure, or that a man can be changed into a beast, and vice versa. Such enigmas offend grown-ups who are readily prejudiced, proud of their doubt, armed with derision. But I have the impudence to believe that the cinema which depicts the impossible is apt to carry conviction, in a way, and may be able to put a "singular" occurrence into the plural. It is up to us (that is, to me and my unit―in fact, one entity) to avoid those impossibilities which are even more of a jolt in the midst of the improbable than in the midst of reality. For fantasy has its own laws which are like those of perspective. You may not bring what is distant into the foreground, or render fuzzily what is near. The vanishing lines are impeccable and the orchestration so delicate that the slightest false note jars. I am not speaking of what I have achieved, but of what I shall attempt within the means at my disposal. My method is simple: not to aim at poetry. That must come of its own accord. The mere whispered mention of its name frightens it away. I shall try to build a table. It will be up to you then to eat at it, to examine it or to chop it up for firewood.

Good points, and definitely! There's another book on romance you might find interesting. I recently read Pride and Prejudice: the Story Grid Edition annotated by Shawn Coyne, and he discusses a similar narrative structure that is common to good romances (there's commonality with Sansa and Sandor, too): Lovers Meet Scene Confession of Love Scene First Kiss/Intimate Connection Scene Lovers Break Up Proof of Love Scene The Lovers Reunite Scene More on the Proof of Love scene: The key component in the Proof of Love scene is that one of the lovers must sacrifice for the other's happiness without hope that the sacrificial act will do them any good whatsoever. Also there are conventions (distinct add-on elements that give the story context): The Rival (without rivals, there is no possibility for crisis) Moral Weight (if the lovers cannot elevate themselves morally, they will not be able to find authentic love; that is, they must have a worldview shift that raises their moral fiber) Helpers, Hinderers (those who help the two come together, those who work to destroy the match) Gender Divide (distinct differences in the ways the two lovers view love must be in play) External Need (external pressures to find a mate) Forces At Play Beyond the Couple's Control (social convention) Forces At Play in the Couple's Control (one or both lovers has to get out of their own way to change their behavior and worldview) Rituals (the lovers develop little things they only do with one another) Secrets Secrets society keeps from the couple Secrets the couple keeps from society Secrets the couple keeps from one another Secrets one of the couple keeps from himself/herself Some quotes from the annotations: These run-ins [they keep running into each other] are very important as setup for Darcy's proposal... Austen needed to make sure the signs of Darcy's fascination were actively on the page... Their verbal teasing is the stuff of intimate connection, which becomes a ritual between them... These two are not afraid of conflict... in fact, it excites them... Darcy thinks they're doing their usual verbal par and thrust and is enjoying it... Darcy is hitting the truth, the nerve of her internal problems that are preventing her from seeing that this guy is absolutely the one for her... I could have bullshitted you and given you the standard crap guys tell girls in order to get you to accept me. Instead I told you the truth out of respect.... THIS [the rejection of his proposal] IS DARCY'S ALL IS LOST MOMENT... Austen wants to leave the readers terribly upset by this exchange, but also hopeful that both Darcy and Elizabeth will change and come to realize their roles in keeping themselves apart... Mr. Darcy's proof of love turns the global story and convinces Elizabeth to devote herself to him without reservation. By the way, Elizabeth proves her love for Darcy in an earlier scene (the confrontation with Lady Catherine)... Also here's a good quote from the book, the proof of love, he did it for her: "If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you."

Very interesting. Agree, there's the usual pattern with Sansa and Sandor. A book I'm reading called A Natural History of the Romance Novel by Pamela Regis discusses this: Eight narrative events take a heroine in a romance novel from encumbered to free. In one or more scenes, romance novels always depict the following: the initial state of society in which heroine and hero must court, the meeting between heroine and hero, the barrier to the union of heroine and hero, the attraction between the heroine and hero, the declaration of love between heroine and hero, the point of ritual death, the recognition by heroine and hero of the means to overcome the barrier, and the betrothal. These elements are essential. One chapter looks into Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre (I put some quotes showing similarities with Sansa's story and Jane Eyre as an Extra for Sansa and Sandor): In the final courtship, however, when Jane leaves Marsh End to travel first to Thornfield and then to Ferndean to find Rochester, it is she who courts Rochester. The final courtship cements Jane's freedom... In the course of the novel, she becomes self-possessed. She controls her emotions. She gains and then acts from a base of financial independence. She governs her movements - where she will live and how. She is, in short, free, and Bronte finds the romance novel form a natural medium for this theme of freedom... It is Jane who conducts the final courtship of the novel... All remaining barriers are in Rochester's mind and are utterly within Jane's power to sweep away. Rochester believes that there is another man, St. John Rivers; he believes that the injuries that he suffered in trying unsuccessfully to save Bertha will keep Jane from wanting him; and he believes that he is too old for her. The heroine frees the hero from these barriers to their marriage... In freeing Rochester from the barrier, Jane frees herself from it as well... The heroine's own agency provides the final freedom for both her and the hero. "Reader, I married him" (not "Reader, he married me"), thus rings as a double assertion of freedom: a free woman securing an additional freedom - from the barrier to the marriage she has proposed. The form reinforces the theme. (I formatted the list of story elements in bullets)

A good quote from Jamaica Inn, by Daphne du Maurier, about that push and pull that is typical of the romances in this series. "Falling in love was a pretty name for it, that was all. Jem Merlyn was a man, and she was a woman, and whether it was his hands or his skin or his smile she did not know, but something inside her responded to him, and the very thought of him was an irritant and a stimulant at the same time. It nagged at her and would not let her be."

I added those! Kept finding more.

Glad you liked it! For the purposes of this thread, the term "romance" is used in terms of the overall story. With romance as a genre, the story often begins when the characters are younger, to show character development that leads to the eventual romantic conclusion. The seeds are planted, then grow, it's all part of the "romance" as a story. Adding this video I found, just to show an example from another story, starting the story when they are young to set up the connection, like with George and Mary in It's A Wonderful Life:

Ah, that's beautifully said, and very true. She gets to decide, and that's what makes it so special.

Oh, that's a good one! There's also a name Geillis as a "seer of the future" uses, Melisande! And lots more, like Jamie saying to Claire, like Sandor says to Sansa, whether you will it or no, which is about strong feelings on an instinctual level, something deep and true. I like that DG says Marsali's strength is her own inner feelings, and knowing what she wants. That's something no one can ever take from her, not even a cruel world, that strength that comes from within.

He's got some nice Jane Eyre ones going on, too. Right down to the wording, I'll add that later.

Nice points, and a great find of the cedar hope chest mention in GRRM's other story! These were commonly used by young women to prepare for married life. I found some ads here and here. Love stories are about hope, and this one is beautifully so. Found a nice quote from Diana Gabaldon in Voyager, Marsali reminds me of Sansa. She wants to marry the man she loves, Fergus, who, like Sandor, has only his heart to offer, and he's older, too (Marsali is 15, Fergus is 30), but she knows what she wants: So she had done it. One fifteen-year-old girl, with nothing but stubbornness as a weapon. “I want him,” she had said. And kept saying it, through her mother’s objections and Jamie’s arguments, through Fergus’s scruples and her own fears, through three thousand miles of homesickness, hardship, ocean storm, and shipwreck. She raised her face, shining, and found her mirror in Fergus’s eyes. I saw them look at each other, and felt the tears prickle behind my lids. “I want him.”

Great points! And this is what it comes down to, she wants to make her own choices! (I put the quote on the next page!)

Sandor showed love for Sansa from the start, I think the turning point in their story is that Sansa shows her love for Sandor. Now it's her turn to show her love for him, and I think she will in a big way, it's the next beat of the Beauty and the Beast story. In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy showed his love for Elizabeth Bennet by looking out for her sister, and she was very moved by that. I think we will see a similar scene in this series, Sandor showed his love for Sansa by looking out for her sister.

Extra - Sansa and Sandor ~ Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester (from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë) Parallels --- A little bird Jane/Mr. R: "I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high." ... "Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before you go - embrace me, Jane." Sansa/Sandor: "You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite." ... "You promised me a song, little bird. Have you forgotten?" ... "The little bird flew away, did she? Well bloody good for her." A beast Jane/Mr. R: "Am I hideous, Jane?" "Very, sir: you always were, you know." "Have you a pocket-comb about you, sir?" "What for, Jane?" "Just to comb out this shaggy black mane. I find you rather alarming, when I examine you close at hand: you talk of my being a fairy, but I am sure, you are more like a brownie." Sansa/Sandor: "Look at me. Look at me!" Sandor Clegane put a huge hand under her chin and forced her face up. He squatted in front of her, and moved the torch close. "There's a pretty for you. Take a good long stare. You know you want to." ... She found his massive shoulder with her hand. "He was no true knight," she whispered to him. The Hound threw back his head and roared. He gives her his cloak Jane/Mr. R: "Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you, and sit down in the arm-chair: there, -- I will put it on." ... "Rain and wind, indeed! Yes, you are dripping like a mermaid; pull my cloak round you." Sansa/Sandor: 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 scratchy against her skin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine... She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire... She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering. She compares him to other men, and prefers his beastliness Jane/Mr. R: I compared him with Mr. Rochester. I think (with deference be it spoken) the contrast could not be much greater between a sleek gander and a fierce falcon: between a meek sheep and the rough-coated keen-eyed dog, its guardian. Sansa/Sandor: I wish the Hound were here... When the appointed night arrived, another of the Kingsguard came for her, a man as different from Sandor Clegane... as... well, as a flower from a dog. ... and his ferocity Jane/Mr. R: And, reader, do you think I feared him in his blind ferocity? -- if you do, you little know me. Sansa/Sandor: And yet, some part of her wished that Ser Dontos had a little of the Hound's ferocity. Harsh as he was... Jane/Mr. R: And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader: gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see... I believed that his moodiness, his harshness, and his former faults of morality (I say former, for now he seemed corrected of them) had their source in some cruel cross of fate. Sansa/Sandor: I would be gladder if it were the Hound, Sansa thought. Harsh as he was, she did not believe Sandor Clegane would let any harm come to her... I wish the Hound were here... But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder Jane/Mr. R: He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, and leaning on me with some stress, limped to his horse. Sansa/Sandor: The Hound laid a heavy hand on her shoulder... From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. Innocence and experience Jane/Mr. R (he's 20 years older than her): "Then, in the first place, do you agree with me that I have a right to be a little masterful, abrupt, perhaps exacting, sometimes, on the grounds I stated, namely, that I am old enough to be your father, and that I have battled through a varied experience with many men of many nations, and roamed over half the globe, while you have lived quietly with one set of people in one house?"..."I don't think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience."... "Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched. Well, he would marry her." Sansa/Sandor (he's 15 years older than her): "You look almost a woman... face, teats, and you're taller too, almost... ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you? Singing all the songs they taught you... sing me a song, why don't you? Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids. You like knights, don't you?... Do you like wine, little bird? True wine? A flagon of sour red, dark as blood, all a man needs. Or a woman." ... As they were winding their way up the steps, she said, "Why do you let people call you a dog? You won't let anyone call you a knight." A climb and a view from the roof Jane/Mr. R: Anybody may blame me who likes, when I add further, that, now and then, when I took a walk by myself in the grounds; when I went down to the gates and looked through them along the road; or when, while Adèle played with her nurse, and Mrs. Fairfax made jellies in the storeroom, I climbed the three staircases, raised the trap-door of the attic, and having reached the leads, looked out afar over sequestered field and hill, and along dim sky-line -- that then I longed for a power of vision which might overpass that limit; which might reach the busy world, towns, regions full of life I had heard of but never seen -- that then I desired more of practical experience than I possessed; more of intercourse with my kind, of acquaintance with variety of character, than was here within my reach. Sansa/Sandor: Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She crossed over the dry moat with its cruel iron spikes and made her way up the narrow turnpike stair, but when she reached the door of her bedchamber she could not bear to enter. The very walls of the room made her feel trapped; even with the window opened wide it felt as though there were no air to breathe. Turning back to the stair, Sansa climbed. The smoke blotted out the stars and the thin crescent of moon, so the roof was dark and thick with shadows. Yet from here she could see everything: the Red Keep's tall towers and great cornerforts, the maze of city streets beyond, to south and west the river running black, the bay to the east, the columns of smoke and cinders, and fires, fires everywhere. A moody black horse named for death Jane/Mr. R: Mr. Rochester's black horse: Mesrour, named for the Arabian Nights executioner (and he has a black dog, Pilot): I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made him a distinct object against the trees... I put down my muff on the stile, and went up to the tall steed; I endeavoured to catch the bridle, but it was a spirited thing, and would not let me come near its head; I made effort on effort, though in vain: meantime, I was mortally afraid of its trampling fore-feet. The traveller waited and watched for some time, and at last he laughed. Sansa/Sandor: Sandor's black horse: Stranger, named for the death aspect of the Seven: Stranger, the Hound called him. Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temper as black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick. Look at me Jane/Mr. R: I both wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which followed this sleepless night: I wanted to hear his voice again, yet feared to meet his eye... "Tell me now, fairy as you are - can’t you give me a charm, or a philter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?" "It would be past the power of magic, sir;" and, in thought, I added, "A loving eye is all the charm needed: to such you are handsome enough; or rather your sternness has a power beyond beauty." Sansa/Sandor: "The little bird still can't bear to look at me, can she?" The Hound released her. "You were glad enough to see my face when the mob had you, though. Remember?" ... The Hound leapt at them, his sword a blur of steel that trailed a red mist as it swung. When they broke and ran before him he had laughed, his terrible burned face for a moment transformed. Fire Jane/Mr. R: Tongues of flame darted round the bed: the curtains were on fire. In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep... "It is a pity to see it; and a pity to see your eyes—and the scar of fire on your forehead: and the worst of it is, one is in danger of loving you too well for all this; and making too much of you." Sansa/Sandor: But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside... she could scarcely imagine it. A caress of his scarred face, and manly tears Jane/Mr. R: I caressed, in order to soothe him. I knew of what he was thinking, and wanted to speak for him, but dared not. As he turned aside his face a minute, I saw a tear slide from under the sealed eyelid, and trickle down the manly cheek. My heart swelled. Sansa/Sandor: Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. He stooped towards me as if to kiss me Jane/Mr. R: Suddenly he turned away, with an inarticulate exclamation, full of passionate emotion of some kind; he walked fast through the room and came back; he stooped towards me as if to kiss me; but I remembered caresses were now forbidden. I turned my face away and put his aside... “Jane! will you hear reason?” (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear); “because, if you won’t, I’ll try violence.” His voice was hoarse; his look that of a man who is just about to burst an insufferable bond and plunge headlong into wild license. I saw that in another moment, and with one impetus of frenzy more, I should be able to do nothing with him. The present—the passing second of time—was all I had in which to control and restrain him—a movement of repulsion, flight, fear would have sealed my doom,—and his. But I was not afraid: not in the least. I felt an inward power; a sense of influence, which supported me. The crisis was perilous; but not without its charm: such as the Indian, perhaps, feels when he slips over the rapid in his canoe. I took hold of his clenched hand, loosened the contorted fingers, and said to him, soothingly— “Sit down; I’ll talk to you as long as you like, and hear all you have to say, whether reasonable or unreasonable.” Sansa/Sandor: "I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. "Still can't bear to look, can you?" she heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said." His dagger was out, poised at her throat. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." ... Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed... When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire... She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it... Dreams of him Jane/Mr. R: At this period of my life, my heart far oftener swelled with thankfulness than sank with dejection: and yet, reader, to tell you all, in the midst of this calm, this useful existence - after a day passed in honourable exertion amongst my scholars, an evening spent in drawing or reading contentedly alone - I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams many-coloured, agitated, full of the ideal, the stirring, the stormy - dreams where, amidst unusual scenes, charged with adventure, with agitating risk and romantic chance, I still again and again met Mr. Rochester, always at some exciting crisis; and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him, being loved by him - the hope of passing a lifetime at his side, would be renewed, with all its first force and fire. Then I awoke. Then I recalled where I was, and how situated. Then I rose up on my curtainless bed, trembling and quivering; and then the still, dark night witnessed the convulsion of despair, and heard the burst of passion. Sansa/Sandor: That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King... And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion’s eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. “I'll have a song from you,” he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said... As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. Missing her Jane/Mr. R: "Who can tell what a dark, dreary, hopeless life I have dragged on for months past? Doing nothing, expecting nothing; merging night in day; feeling but the sensation of cold when I let the fire go out, of hunger when I forgot to eat: and then a ceaseless sorrow, and, at times, a very delirium of desire to behold my Jane again." Sansa/Sandor: The Hound no longer troubled to hide his face. He no longer seemed to care who knew him... His eyes opened. "You remember where the heart is?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.... He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. "And the little bird, your pretty sister..." A quiet island Jane/Mr. R: "My little friend!" said he, "I wish I were in a quiet island with only you; and trouble, and danger, and hideous recollections removed from me." Sansa/Sandor: "Why do they call it the Quiet Isle?" asked Podrick. "Those who dwell here are penitents, who seek to atone for their sins through contemplation, prayer, and silence." An elder brother Jane/Mr. R: "He lost his elder brother a few years since." "His elder brother?" "Yes. The present Mr. Rochester has not been very long in possession of the property; only about nine years." "Nine years is a tolerable time. Was he so very fond of his brother as to be still inconsolable for his loss?" "Why, no—perhaps not. I believe there were some misunderstandings between them." Sansa/Sandor: "A woodcarver set up shop in the village under my father’s keep, and to buy favor he sent us gifts. The old man made marvelous toys. I don’t remember what I got, but it was Gregor’s gift I wanted. A wooden knight..." ... "He is at rest." The Elder Brother paused. "You are young, child. I have counted four-and-forty name days … which makes me more than twice your age, I think." An irreligious dog Jane/Mr. R: "Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now." Sansa/Sandor: The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear... "Wolves are nobler than that... And so are dogs, I think." No ruin, but a safe prop Jane/Mr. R: "I am no better than the old lightning-struck chestnut-tree in Thornfield orchard," he remarked ere long. "And what right would that ruin have to bid a budding woodbine cover its decay with freshness?" "You are no ruin, sir—no lightning-struck tree: you are green and vigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or not, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because your strength offers them so safe a prop." Sansa/Sandor: On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame... When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear. I heard a voice... Where are you? Jane/Mr. R: The craving to know what had become of him followed me everywhere... I sought my bedroom each night to brood over it... I saw nothing, but I heard a voice somewhere cry - "Jane! Jane! Jane!" - nothing more.. And it was the voice of a human being - a known, loved, well-remembered voice - that of Edward Fairfax Rochester; and it spoke in pain and woe, wildly, eerily, urgently. "I am coming!" I cried. "Wait for me! Oh, I will come!"... "Where are you?" I exclaimed. Sansa/Sandor: A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here, and every one better than you. She wondered what had become of Sandor Clegane... "Singer," a rough voice said, "best go, if you want to sing again." The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade... It was Lothor Brune's voice, she realized. Not the Hound's, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor. An heiress staying with cousins under an alias Jane/Mr. R: "My name is Jane Elliott." Sansa/Sandor: "Alayne... Stone, would it be?" An unwanted suitor who wants another woman Jane/Mr. R: St. John, who wants Rosamond: "fair, blue eyes, a Grecian profile" Sansa/Sandor: Harry, who wants Saffron: "sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, an aquiline nose" She wants to marry for love Jane/Mr. R: "Marry! I don't want to marry, and never shall marry... No one would take me for love; and I will not be regarded in the light of a mere money speculation." Sansa/Sandor: She did not want to wed again, not now, perhaps not ever... It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. (added more quotes)

Sansa and Sandor - Sansa and the Hound as Beauty and the Beast --- "For in that solemn silence is heard in the whisper of every sleeping thing: Look, look at me, come wake me up, for still here I'll be." ~ Beauty and the Beast (2017) Beauty and the Beast (La Belle et la Bête) is a coming of age story, a story of sexual awakening (the Beast awakens the beast within Beauty) and marriage. Beauty and the Beast bring out the best in each other. Jean Cocteau's La Belle et la Bête (the inspiration for Sansa and the Hound) The story the author wrote for Sansa and the Hound as La Belle et la Bête Calendar art the author requested for Sansa and the Hound as La Belle et la Bête Review of La Belle et la Bête by Roger Ebert: Those familiar with the 1991 cartoon will recognize some of the elements of the story, but certainly not the tone. Cocteau uses haunting images and bold Freudian symbols to suggest that emotions are at a boil in the subconscious of his characters. Consider the extraordinary shot where Belle waits at the dining table in the castle for the Beast's first entrance. He appears behind her and approaches silently. She senses his presence, and begins to react in a way that some viewers have described as fright, although it is clearly orgasmic. Before she has even seen him, she is aroused to her very depths, and a few seconds later, as she tells him she cannot marry--a Beast!--she toys with a knife that is more than a knife. Beauty and the Beast, Visions and Revisions of an Old Tale by Betsy Hearne The Beast assumes a passive role and Beauty an active one. The Beast basically sits around waiting to be rescued by the handsome princess, as soon as she loosens her ties with home and family, especially her father... The Beast, who is first seen as repulsive, is in the end seen before any transformation, as irresistible. He is an ostensible villain who turns out to be vulnerable and even heroic in beastly form... The Beast's task is patience; Beauty's is perception. Beauty, first seen as infinitely desirable, finds herself desiring, and this most loyal daughter turns out to be a promise-breaker, acting in a beastly manner toward a true friend. Before her final choice, one is attracted to the Beast and impatient with Beauty... Beauty must learn to believe not what she sees, but what she feels… On Cocteau’s version: Beauty’s revelation at the end - "I was the monster, my Beast" - climaxes the many reversals explored in both picture and dialogue... “Beauty and the Beast” offers the promise that for all our human ugliness and brutality, we can be acceptable, even lovable, to another human being. The continuing relevance of “Beauty and the Beast” as a modern theme stems from this fearful knowledge that we are each beastly, juxtaposed with the hopeful knowledge that we are each beautiful. The Hound says the Beast's lines La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast): One does not call me "my Lord"; one calls me "Beast." I don't like compliments. Sansa and the Hound: "Spare me your empty little compliments, girl … and your ser's. I am no knight.... And I'm no lord..." Beauty and the Beast symbolism at the tourney The tourney in Sansa's story is loaded with Beauty and the Beast symbolism that sets up the rest of the story Beauty is Sansa (she's often described as beautiful; a "flowering" maiden, she's drawn to the Beast, but afraid to take the leap from father to Beast) The Beast is the Hound (he's often described in beastly terms; he's no lord, and he doesn't like empty compliments, but he likes Beauty) Father is Ned (Beauty wants to leave the nest, and Father leads her away from home, then leaves her with the Beast, where the tale plays out) False Father is Littlefinger (he tries to take Beauty's father's place, but he's false, and leads her astray, like her sisters did in the fairytale) The Prince is Joffrey (Beauty calls him my prince; he's beautiful, but deep down inside, she prefers the beastly Beast) The Rose is Loras, the Knight of Flowers (the rose plays its part, and leads Beauty to the Beast, then is cast aside) False Rose is Tyrion, the Knight of Flowers in the Dark (what he calls himself when he makes his pitch to Beauty, but she casts him aside, too) The Beast (the Hound) is the champion at the tourney for Beauty's Father (Ned) Beauty (Sansa) tells her Father (Ned) she knows the Beast (the Hound) will win Beauty (Sansa) remembers the Beast (the Hound) was the champion at her Father's tourney The Beast (the Hound) defeats all of Beauty's potential suitors (representing Baratheon, Lannister, and Tyrell) at the tourney The Rose (Loras) yields to the Beast (the Hound); the Rose cheats at the tourney and loses, the Beast is the true knight and wins The Beast (the Hound) says the Beast's lines after the Prince (Joffrey) tells him to take Beauty (Sansa) to the castle False Father (Littlefinger) bets against the Beast (the Hound) and loses; he notes False Rose (Tyrion) would have bet against the Beast and lost, too Beauty (Sansa) misses the Beast (the Hound), while the Beast nearly dies of heartbreak remembering Beauty ("That's how you kill a man... You remember where the heart is?") The Rose (Loras) and False Rose (Tyrion) always yield to the Beast (the Hound) in Beauty's (Sansa's) thoughts and dreams (the Beast/the Hound always wins, as he did at the tourney) For example, Beauty (Sansa) considers kissing the Rose (Loras), but she gives the kiss to the Beast (the Hound) For example, Beauty (Sansa) dreams of the False Rose (Tyrion) in the marriage bed with her, but she replaces him with the Beast (the Hound) The story continues throughout all the books, from first to last Quotes from the tourney: "Spare me your empty little compliments, girl … and your ser's. I am no knight... She found his massive shoulder with her hand. "He was no true knight," she whispered to him. The Hound threw back his head and roared... Sansa said, “I knew the Hound would win.”... “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... He had been the champion in her father's tourney, Sansa remembered. While Beauty and the Beast are together and apart Beauty and the Beast, their story together --- Beauty's father leads her to the Prince's castle, but there she finds a Beast, who protects her, and wants to marry her, but she's afraid to make the leap from father to Beast, from daughter to lover As Sansa makes the transition, there are many juxtapositions of Ned and the Hound, father and the Beast; for example: "Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it was her father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane looking down at her" Both Sansa and Sandor are idealists; as children, he played with the knight toy, no doubt rescuing a fair maiden, and she loved songs of knights and fair maidens Sansa and Sandor, like Beauty and the Beast, see the good in each other and draw that out, they are better for knowing each other And so (the reader hopes) Beauty and the Beast find their way back to each other Cocteau has Beauty refuse Avenant's offer of marriage in the beginning, but in the end, Beauty accepts the same man (in appearance) that she rejected before This symbolically reflects Beauty's transition as she overcomes her fears about sex, played out with her exchanges with the Beast, who brings out the beast (sexuality) in her It’s when Sansa is ready to take that leap from father to Beast, when she faces her fears about sex, that Sandor, in turn, relinquishes the last vestiges of the Hound persona, represented by the abandonment of his helm At the same time Sandor nearly dies on the Trident, Sansa is ready to look at him In Cocteau's version, in the end, Beauty calls the Beast "my Beast" and upon his transformation, Marlene Dietrich said with dismay, "Where is my beautiful Beast?" The subtext of fear is excitement; in the end, Cocteau has Beauty say "I like being afraid with you" as they are about to "fly away" together Beauty's story --- "As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak." ~ Sansa on Sandor, AFFC Sansa "remembers" kissing Sandor three times She tells us she's been thinking about Sandor while lying awake at night in bed, and she wishes he was there, and she regrets not going with him She puts his bloody cloak (red on white, traditional consummation symbolism) with her summer silks... the cloak she clutches to her bare breasts then tells us no velvet felt so fine, the cloak she chooses to get under in a scene filled with sexual symbolism After dreaming a thousand times of a tall strong man kissing her when she marries him, she keeps the cloak of a tall strong man who she pretends she kissed in a cedar chest, commonly used as a "hope chest" where young women preparing for marriage keep treasures She tells us she understands Sandor because she knows his secret, she wonders where he is, she dreams of him in bed with her, asking for a song, a song she says she'll sing for him gladly one day, a song he remembers with his dying breath When the other girls are pretending to kiss a man, she "one ups" them in her thoughts, what would the other girls think of her "kissing the Hound, as she had"? She models herself as a bastard (Alayne Stone) on Mya Stone, and when she hears older men make the best husbands, plays matchmaker for Mya and Lothor, at the same time she's matching herself with Sandor (note, even the spelling of Lothor and Sandor is similar) Catelyn thinks Mya is like Sansa, "She sounded so like Sansa, so happy and innocent with her dreams," and notes Mya Stone is born on the wrong side of the blanket, something Sansa also thinks about Alayne, while she pretends to kiss Sandor Sansa is so focused on Sandor as her protector, she thinks she hears him coming to her rescue: "Singer," a rough voice said, "best go, if you want to sing again." The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade... It was Lothor Brune's voice, she realized. Not the Hound's, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor. When she pretends to kiss Sandor instead of Sweetrobin, this is not the first time she uses Sweetrobin as a kissing stand-in for Sandor (he says let's stay in bed and read stories and kiss) She has thought of Sandor this way so often, she doesn't even have to name him anymore, and we know who he is She refers to him as "he" (she doesn't name him in her dream of him in her marriage bed, or later when she pretends she's "kissing" him, for example) "She found herself" - Sandor's kiss helps her find Sansa "He had come to Sansa" - this is what she wants to happen again "He left me" with nothing but his cloak, like a jilted bride; a little while later, when she's asked about the marriage bed, she remembers the Hound, and how he'd kissed her She says "he left me" and he says he left her, too; they both regret that he left her "She could still remember how it felt" - she has imagined this so many times, it seems real Later, she rescues Sweetrobin, like Sandor rescued her Before, Sandor said: "Look at me," and she closed her eyes Now, she says: I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave. Before, Sandor was always there to catch her before she could fall: She could still feel the cruel pinch of fingers on her wrist as she lost her balance and began to fall. When his hand fell away, another hand, stronger, shoved her back into her saddle. Now, she doesn't fall: The steepness of this part of the descent made her cling tightly to her saddle. I will not fall. She looks now, and she stays on the saddle, like Sandor helped her do before; she's a woman now, and she's not afraid to look Beauty is ready for the Beast, but where is he? The Beast's Story --- The Beast proves his love by taking care of Beauty's sister The song about stealing a sweet kiss with a blade from the maid from Gulltown is sung just as Sandor, who nearly stole a sweet kiss from a maid "from Gulltown", re-enters the story Sandor remembers Sansa's song: "You ought to sing me a pretty little song, the way your sister did" Before, he said "I'm no lord" Now, he's ready to bend, in order to reconnect with Sansa: "If this Young Wolf has the wits the gods gave a toad, he'll make me a lordling and beg me to enter his service. He needs me, though he may not know it yet" (the subtext is Sansa needs him) He hears Sansa was forced to marry someone else, and has to sit, drinks too much too fast, then nearly loses the fight Before, Sansa gasps when it seems Sandor will fall from his saddle: Wood shattered, and the Hound reeled, fighting to keep his seat. Sansa gasped... The Hound just managed to stay in his saddle.... This time, when Jaime shifted his seat, Sandor Clegane shifted with him... Sansa said, “I knew the Hound would win.” Now, it's Sandor who can't stay in the saddle, it's time to rest: He slumped in the saddle, and sweated, and his ear began to bleed through the bandage. He needed all his strength just to keep from falling off Stranger... “I need to rest,” was all he said. This time when he dismounted he did fall. Before, he said: "That's where the heart is, girl. That's how you kill a man." Now, the Hound (the Beast) asks again, "You remember where the heart is?" as he nearly dies from heartbreak on the Trident, remembering Sansa (Beauty) He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. “And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood there in my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf.” His heart breaks for Sansa, as he imagines what she has gone through He mentions his cloak again, he pledged to protect her, but feels he let her down; at the same time, she's remembering how much he did for her He wishes she had given him her heart and her desires (her song), while at the same time, she's giving him her kiss and remembers giving him her song He says "I left her" just as she says "he left me" - they both regret that he left her A song and a kiss Sandor often asks Sansa to sing, and as Bran notes, "my sister Sansa likes the kissing stories" Sansa remembers Sandor kissing her three times: The first time: Sansa is boasting to herself about kissing Sandor when the other girls play a kissing game: Sansa wondered what Megga would think about kissing the Hound as she had The second time: Sansa is playing a kissing game with Sweetrobin, enjoying the thought of Sandor's kiss and missing him: She could still remember how it felt with his cruel mouth pressed down on her own... He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. The third time: Sansa places Sandor in her marriage bed: "You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?" She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he'd kissed her, and gave a nod. A song and a kiss, throughout their story: "Sing me a song, why don't you? Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids. You like knights, don't you?" “I … I know a song about Florian and Jonquil.” “Florian and Jonquil? A fool and his cunt. Spare me. But one day I’ll have a song from you, whether you will it or no.” “I will sing it for you gladly.” He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said... Sing, little bird." Then she remembered: she had prayed to the mother to "save" Sandor (He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him), and now, when he comes to her from a ship called Prayer, she sings for the Mother to "save" him (Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray) "Little bird," he said once more. "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho. I'll steal a sweet kiss with the point of my blade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho. I'll make her my love and we'll rest in the shade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho." "And she sang for me. You didn't know that, did you? Your sister sang me a sweet little song." "I took the bloody song, she never gave it." As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt... He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. Sansa thinks of Sandor during a marriage ceremony with another man: He is even uglier than the Hound. When Sansa hears her aunt "singing" during sex, she becomes aware of the double meaning of the word song Right after this, she dreams of Sandor in the marriage bed as her husband: When he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped. And again, she associates Sandor with a song and a kiss: "You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?" She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he'd kissed her, and gave a nod. Before the story is over, "she'll be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss" Meanwhile she's pretending they kissed in the story: Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses, and melted on her cheeks. Sandor is the only one who asks Sansa to sing; Littlefinger told her life is not a song and Tyrion said the last thing she needs is more songs The Bear and the Maiden Fair, a song where a maiden thinks she wants one thing (an idealized knight, "a man as different from Sandor Clegane... as... well, as a flower from a dog"), but really wants another (sexual satisfaction, "I called for a knight, but you're a bear!"), and finds what she wants in a beast, is played at a luncheon about Sansa's marriage prospects Florian and Jonquil Sansa loves songs, especially the songs about Florian and Jonquil, a knight and his fair maiden The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. Sansa is looking for three things, and she finds them all in Sandor: 1. Her True Knight: Help me, she prayed, send me a friend, a true knight to champion me. 2. Her Beast: Sansa found herself thinking of Lady again. She could smell out falsehood, she could. 3. Her Florian: Home, she thought, home, he is going to take me home, he'll keep me safe, my Florian. Then Sansa runs straight into Sandor: She was racing headlong down the serpentine steps when a man lurched out of a hidden doorway. Sansa caromed into him and lost her balance. Iron fingers caught her by the wrist before she could fall. And one by one, Sandor takes on each of the three things Sansa is looking for: 1. Her True Knight: "You like knights, don't you?... True knights..." 2. Her Beast: "A dog can smell a lie, you know." 3. Her Florian: "I never got my song... Florian and Jonquil?" Sansa and Sandor talk about true knights at her father's tourney: The silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. "He was no true knight," she whispered to him. Sansa, the fair maid, and Sandor, who becomes her knight, have ongoing exchanges about Florian and Jonquil: "Sing me a song, why don't you? Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids. You like knights, don't you?" “I … I know a song about Florian and Jonquil... I will sing it for you gladly.” When Sandor comes to Sansa before he leaves to rescue her, he asks her to sing Florian and Jonquil; now, things have changed between them, taking a romantic turn: He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her... "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said."... Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. Sandor and Dunk, a true knight, are paralleled in stories where they play Florian to their respective Jonquils, Sansa and Tanselle Dunk is the champion at the Ashford tourney, where he is a true knight to Tanselle, who plays Jonquil in a puppet show; Sandor is the champion at Sansa's father's tourney, where he is a true knight to Sansa, who becomes his Jonquil Dunk remembers the song about stealing a sweet kiss with a blade while digging a grave: The spring rains had softened the ground, so Dunk had no trouble digging the grave. He chose a spot on the western slope of a low hill... Only a few days past, he had been singing as they rode, the old song about going to Gulltown to see a fair maid, but instead of Gulltown he'd sung of Ashford. Off to Ashford to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, Dunk thought miserably as he dug. Sandor digs a grave, while Sansa pretends they kissed, and pretends to be a maid from Gulltown, like in the song: On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave... "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho. I'll steal a sweet kiss with the point of my blade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho. I'll make her my love and we'll rest in the shade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho." Dunk steals a sweet kiss with a blade: With one hard yank he pulled her down on top of him and kissed her... But when they finally broke apart, he drew his dagger. "I know what I want to remember you by, m'lady." Sandor almost steals a sweet kiss with a blade (and Sansa pretends he did): He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her... "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said." His dagger was out, poised at her throat. More sexual symbolism Sandor is at the center of Sansa's flowering (his "steel" even shows up at the end of her flowering dream) and sexual awakening (she dreams of him in the marriage bed, asking for a song) Blackwater is a symbolic wedding night, reminiscent of Sansa's dream of marriage to a tall, strong man who gives her his cloak of protection and kisses her Sandor pledges to protect her, declaring his love: "I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them" and gives her his cloak; later, Sansa adds the kiss Red on white is traditional consummation symbolism, and Sandor's bloody cloak represents the bloody white sheet; Sansa puts on Sandor's cloak herself, unlike the cloaks given to her by other men Sansa feels Sandor's dagger!dick pushing into her, then a wetness that is not blood, then a tear, and she caresses his face and gets under his bloody cloak (under "him"), and then bells ring across "her" "hills and hollows" (traditional sexual symbolism) There are many callbacks to Blackwater; what happens between Sansa and Sandor that night is described in sexual terms, then Sansa and Sandor repeatedly remember what happened between them that night in sexual terms The author clearly places a sexual emphasis on that night, on what happens between them, as the feelings simmering beneath the surface come to a boil, just as in Cocteau's version of Beauty and the Beast Sansa adds the kiss to that night, not to a new fantasy; she places importance on what happened between them that night, remembering what she was feeling and imagining what he must have been feeling, too At the Fingers, in a callback to Blackwater, a hound is waiting in bed for Sansa, and the hound licks her face (dog kiss), then she ruffles his fur (caresses him), then she dreams of the Hound in her marriage bed The sexual symbolism of the Blackwater scene is reminiscent of other uses of symbolism throughout the books, notably the dagger to "steal" a wildling woman, and a song about stealing a sweet kiss with a blade from a fair maid (from Gulltown); in other storylines, Dunk pulls a dagger on Rohanne, Jaime pulls a dagger on Brienne, Jon pulls a dagger on Ygritte, and more Sandor places his sword on Sansa, and she wants to "pet" him; He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel.... 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... She was afraid of Sandor Clegane... and yet, some part of her wished that Ser Dontos had a little of the Hound's ferocity. Sansa defends Sandor's "jousting": Of late Ser Osmund had taken Sandor Clegane’s place by Joffrey’s side, and Sansa had heard the women at the washing well saying he was as strong as the Hound, only younger and faster. If that was so, she wondered why she had never once heard of these Kettleblacks before Ser Osmund was named to the Kingsguard. "Danger is exciting": Though he had the same black hair, hooked nose, and easy smile as his brother Osmund, one cheek bore three long scratches... "Scars make a man look dangerous, and danger is exciting.” (a man matching Sandor's description, with a scar on his cheek) Sandor is there when Sansa is "flowering": she has cramps and nearly falls, but he is there, with his "sword" just as he was during the rescue, and she remembers (his sword a blur of steel that trailed a red mist as it swung... "the little bird's bleeding... see to that cut") and dreams about it (then she saw the bright glimmer of steel) Sandor tries to reach Sansa's family, and is prevented by the Red Wedding; after saying this: "You ought to sing me a pretty little song, the way your sister did", he expresses his frustration with another blade: Whenever he took his axe to chop some wood for a fire, he would slide into a cold rage, hacking savagely at the tree or the deadfall or the broken limb, until they had twenty times as much kindling and firewood as they’d needed. Sandor's cloak (and marriage symbolism) Sansa keeps Sandor's cloak in a cedar chest (used by young women to keep treasures for when they are married) with her summer silks (dresses), a sign of hope that winter will pass, and there will be time for happiness (she sang to him of "a better day") Other men force her to wear their cloaks (Tyrion, while "standing on the back of a fool" in the "mockery of a marriage" and Littlefinger, after he kidnaps her and without asking her), but Sansa puts on Sandor's cloak herself, twice, and often she remembers he gave it to her The first time: Sansa clutched it against her chest, fists bunched hard in the white wool. The coarse weave was scratchy against her skin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine (the cloak is a stand-in for Sandor, coarse but feels fine) Sandor gives Sansa his cloak while protecting her (cloak of protection marriage symbolism), and she puts his cloak on herself (to contrast when she was forced to wear the cloak of someone she was forced to marry) The second time: She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering. How long she stayed there she could not have said, but after a time she heard a bell ringing... calling across the hills and hollows Again, Sandor gives Sansa his cloak while protecting her; Sandor: "I could keep you safe", Sansa: Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city Sansa places Sandor's cloak with her dresses in a cedar chest (traditionally hope chests, to prepare for marriage): She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. Sansa often observes and remembers Sandor's cloak, throughout the story: Sandor Clegane was the first rider to appear. He wore an olive-green cloak over his soot-grey armor. That, and his hound's-head helm, were his only concession to ornament. The Hound’s scarred face was hard to read. He took a long moment to consider. "Why not? I have no lands nor wife to forsake, and who’d care if I did?" The burned side of his mouth twisted. "But I warn you, I’ll say no knight’s vows." In the back of the royal box, Sandor Clegane stood at guard, his hands resting on his swordbelt. The white cloak of the Kingsguard was draped over his broad shoulders and fastened with a jeweled brooch, the snowy cloth looking somehow unnatural against his brown roughspun tunic and studded leather jerkin. "Lady Sansa," the Hound announced curtly when he saw her. "Enough," she heard the Hound rasp... Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa's bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands... 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 scratchy against her skin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine. Sandor Clegane cantered briskly through the gates astride Sansa’s chestnut courser. The girl was seated behind, both arms tight around the Hound’s chest... Clegane lifted her to the ground. His white cloak was torn and stained, and blood seeped through a jagged tear in his left sleeve. "The little bird's bleeding. Someone take her back to her cage and see to that cut." "I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her... Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps. When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire. The sky outside was darker by then, with only a few pale green ghosts dancing against the stars. A chill wind was blowing, banging the shutters. Sansa was cold. She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering. I wish the Hound were here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she'd been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she'd kept it. The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside . . . she could scarcely imagine it. She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kiss her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp. He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. "And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood there in my white cloak and let them beat her." As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. Lady and the Hound Sansa usually calls Sandor the Hound (the Beast); she often thinks of hounds and dogs, she makes "fast friends" and sleeps with a hound when she dreams of the Hound in bed with her asking for a song Sandor (The Hound) often appears when Sansa thinks of Lady, her lost wolf; the two are connected in this way throughout the story Sansa insists on feeding Lady, who is called a dog, at the table: "I've never seen an aurochs," Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table... "A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table," she said... "She's not a dog, she's a direwolf," Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue. "Anyway, Father said we could keep them with us if we want."... and later Tywin refers to the Hound this way, "Can anyone say the same of the Hound? You feed your dog bones under the table, you do not seat him beside you on the high bench.” Sandor and Lady "compete" to protect Sansa: Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it was her father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane looking down at her... Lady moved between them, rumbling a warning. Sandor does Lady's "between" move to protect Sansa when Lady is gone: Sandor Clegane knelt before her, between her and Joffrey. With a delicacy surprising in such a big man, he dabbed at the blood welling from her broken lip. Sansa thinks about the Hound protecting her, then Lady: Joffrey laughed. "He's my mother's dog, in truth. She has set him to guard me, and so he does." "You mean the Hound," she said... "Is it safe to leave him behind?" She found herself thinking of Lady, wishing the direwolf was with her.' Sansa defends the Hound, just as she defends Lady: "It's not the same," Sansa said. "The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince." Robert to Ned, just before Lady dies: "A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later it would have turned on your girl the same way the other did on my son. Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it." The Hound protects Sansa: The girl speaks truly," the Hound rasped. "What a man sows on his name day, he reaps throughout the year." Again: The others obeyed without question … except for the Hound, but Joff never asked the Hound to punish her... "Enough," she heard the Hound rasp. And again: The Hound leapt at them, his sword a blur of steel that trailed a red mist as it swung. When they broke and ran before him he had laughed, his terrible burned face for a moment transformed. And when Sansa thinks about Lady: Sansa found herself thinking of Lady again. She could smell out falsehood, she could... She runs right into the Hound and he says: "A dog can smell a lie, you know." And he protects her: "That one is nothing to fear, girl." The Hound laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Paint stripes on a toad, he does not become a tiger." Sansa asks why he lets people call him a dog: As they were winding their way up the steps, she said, "Why do you let people call you a dog? You won't let anyone call you a knight." "I like dogs better than knights." Sansa wants to pet him: 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. She wishes he was there to protect her when he's not there: Harsh as he was, she did not believe Sandor Clegane would let any harm come to her. And again, she thinks about Lady and Sandor is there: Sansa backed away from the window... "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. When Sansa is offered an arranged marriage with Willas to escape the Lannisters, she focuses on puppies: She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps... When Sansa remembers the forced marriage to Tyrion, she's troubled, but then remembers Sandor, and feels better: The memory of her own wedding night with Tyrion was much with her. In the dark, I am the Knight of Flowers, he had said. I could be good to you. But that was only another Lannister lie. A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here, and every one better than you. She wondered what had become of Sandor Clegane. Dogs barking is associated with sex right before Sansa has her dream of the Hound in her bed: Her last shriek was so loud that it set the dogs to barking... A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Sansa sleeps with the hound she made friends with and she dreams of the Hound and then wishes the hound was Lady: And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said. When Sansa is lonely, she misses hounds: There were no horses on the mountain, no hounds to bark and growl, no knights training in the yard. After Sansa pretends she kissed the Hound and thinks of him when asked what goes on in a marriage bed, she thinks of dogs barking: I will dream a sweet dream, and when I wake there will be dogs barking, women gossiping beside the well, swords ringing in the yard. Dog the dog is a beastly stand-in for the Hound; Dog is big, fierce, protective, and bored at the QI, just like the Hound: "You're Joffrey's dog." "My own dog now."... The dog barked and wagged his tail. He was a huge, shaggy creature, ten stone of dog at least, but friendly. "Who does he belong to?" asked Podrick. "Why, to himself, and to the Seven. As to his name, he has not told me what it is. I call him Dog."... "Dog keeps me safe upon the roads, even in such trying times as these... Dog has killed a dozen wolves."... "A brief but furious struggle ensued before the dog came trotting back, wet and mud-spattered, with the crab between his jaws."... The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. As he flung a spadeful of the stony soil over one shoulder, some chanced to spatter against their feet... Even Dog was bored... “There are bloodstains on the floor over there where Dog is sniffing." [where the Hound was injured at the inn]... Another beastly stand-in, Stranger, is bored at the QI, too: Way down at the far end, well away from the other animals, a huge black stallion trumpeted at the sound of their voices and kicked at the door of his stall... “A handsome beast.”... "You may have seen a big black stallion in our stables. That was his warhorse, Stranger... I fear he has his former master’s nature.” The horse. She had seen the stallion, had heard it kicking, but she had not understood. Destriers were trained to kick and bite. In war they were a weapon, like the men who rode them. Like the Hound; and one day, Sansa will be "singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss" Little bird Sandor calls Sansa little bird, a pet name, many times throughout the story, and she tells him she will sing for him gladly one day Sandor often asks Sansa to sing and says she can fly; he catches her before she can fall, over and over, when she's not ready to fly yet. "Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite." The Hound threw back his head and roared. Sansa stumbled back, away from him, but he caught her arm. "No," he growled at her, "no, little bird, he was no true knight." The Hound was right, she thought, I am only a little bird, repeating the words they taught me. Sansa caromed into him and lost her balance. Iron fingers caught her by the wrist before she could fall, and a deep voice rasped at her. "It's a long roll down the serpentine, little bird. Want to kill us both?" His laughter was rough as a saw on stone. "Maybe you do." (callback to when he saved her from killing herself along with Joffrey) "And what's Joff's little bird doing flying down the serpentine in the black of night?... You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you're taller too, almost . . . ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you? Singing all the songs they taught you . . . sing me a song, why don't you? Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids. You like knights, don't you?" "Do you like wine, little bird? True wine? A flagon of sour red, dark as blood, all a man needs. Or a woman." He laughed, shook his head. "Drunk as a dog, damn me. You come now. Back to your cage, little bird. I'll take you there. Keep you safe for the king." The Hound gave her a push, oddly gentle, and followed her down the steps. "A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face." He cupped her under the jaw, raising her chin, his fingers pinching her painfully. "And that's more than little birds can do, isn't it? I never got my song." The longer you keep him waiting, the worse it will go for you,” Sandor Clegane warned her... The Hound was always rough-tongued, but something in the way he had looked at her filled her with dread... The Hound snorted. "They trained you well, little bird." A stab went through her so sharp that Sansa sobbed and clutched her belly. She might have fallen, but a shadow moved suddenly, and strong fingers grabbed her arm and steadied her... "The little bird thinks she has wings, does she? Or do you mean to end up crippled like that brother of yours?" "The little bird still can't bear to look at me, can she?" The Hound released her. "You were glad enough to see my face when the mob had you, though. Remember?"... She could still feel the cruel pinch of fingers on her wrist as she lost her balance and began to fall. She’d thought she was going to die then, but the fingers had twitched, all five at once, and the man had shrieked loud as a horse. When his hand fell away, another hand, stronger, shoved her back into her saddle. Sandor wears his heart on his sleeve: Clegane lifted her to the ground. His white cloak was torn and stained, and blood seeped through a jagged tear in his left sleeve. "The little bird’s bleeding. Someone take her back to her cage and see to that cut." "Tell me, little bird, what kind of god makes a monster like the Imp, or a halfwit like Lady Tanda's daughter?... I'm honest. It's the world that's awful. Now fly away, little bird, I'm sick of you peeping at me." Sandor calls Sansa little bird six times when he comes to rescue her: "Little bird. I knew you'd come." ... . "Don't you want to ask who's winning the battle, little bird?" ... "The little bird repeats whatever she hears. Going, yes." ... "You promised me a song, little bird. Have you forgotten?" ... "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." And finally, before he leaves: Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Later, Sansa misses "hounds to bark and growl" and wishes she could fly away from the Eyrie: "Would that I had wings as well." She bonds with Sweetrobin over the story of a winged knight: "The Winged Knight could fly." When Sandor tries to bring Sansa's sister home: He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. "Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird." When Sandor learns Sansa escaped the forced marriage: "The little bird flew away, did she? Well, bloody good for her. She shit on the Imp's head and flew off." And Sandor's dying thoughts are of Sansa, the little bird: He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. "And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood there in my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it." Sansa compares Sandor positively to other men Sansa often remembers what Sandor said and did, comparing him positively to other men; she replaces other men in her thoughts and dreams with Sandor Meryn (beats her) - later, she remembers what Sandor said Joffrey (torments her, gropes her breast) - later, she remembers what Sandor said Slynt (remembers what he did) - later, she remembers what Sandor said (hears his voice) Kingsguard (beats her) - later, she notes that Sandor never beat her; later, she remembers what Sandor said Rapists (attack her) - later, she remembers Sandor rescued her (repeatedly) Ilyn (after Cersei scares her about rape) - she wishes Sandor was there to protect her instead Tyrion (orders her to strip, gropes her breast) - she refuses to kneel for his cloak, but she clutches Sandor's cloak to her breasts and thinks no velvet felt so fine, and puts on Sandor's cloak herself, and keeps it, and thinks of it (and him) often; when she is forced to kiss Tyrion, she thinks of Sandor instead; later, she remembers what Sandor said (hears his voice), then dreams of Sandor in the marriage bed with her instead Marillion (gropes her breast) - she imagines Sandor is there to rescue her instead (once again, hears his voice) Littlefinger (forces kisses, also touches her breast, and tells her older men make the best husbands) - later, she pretends to kiss Sandor instead, and she places Sandor in the marriage bed because of how he'd kissed her instead Loras (forgets her) - the rose leads to the beast, she remembers Sandor was the champion at her father's tourney instead; when she fantasizes about a kiss, she thinks Loras never kissed her, but Sandor did, so she gives Sandor the kiss instead For Beauty, the Beast always wins (back to the tourney symbolism that's repeated throughout the story) Extra - GRRM Commentary There's something there GEORGE R.R. MARTIN: And I do know there's all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the SanSan fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that's interesting, too. TOM MERRITT: The TV show has sort of played with that a little and probably stoked those fires, I would think. GEORGE R.R. MARTIN: Oh, sure. And I've played with it in the books. TOM MERRITT: Yeah, yeah. GEORGE R.R. MARTIN: There's something there. But it's still interesting to see how many people have responded to it. VERONICA BELMONT: I'm not going to say that that hasn't crossed my mind. Maybe I need to go join one of those fan sites and learn more... GEORGE R.R. MARTIN: And what I take pride in as a writer, what gives me great satisfaction is that people are reacting to all of these characters... So that's what I'm striving for is to make these characters as real as I can. And so I like the complexity of the reactions. I like the fact that my readers debate who are the good guys, who are the bad guys, which characters they want to kill and which characters they want to marry and so forth and so on. The unkiss "You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes [there's only been one so far], 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." More on the unkiss "In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something?" "It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] "Unreliable narrator" is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things." And more on the unkiss "The night of the Blackwater. Well, I'm not going to give you a straight answer on that [laughs]. But I will say that a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses. There are tools that are available to me as a novelist that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them that are not available to a novelist. They can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things I can't do, I just have words on paper. What can I do? Well, I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside a character's thoughts, which you can't do on a TV show, you just have the words they speak, you see them from outside, because a camera is external, while prose is internal. And I have the device known as the unreliable narrator, which again they don't have. So think about those two aspects when you consider the night of the Blackwater." The Hound as the Beast "Getting to write words for Ron Perlman was one of the best parts of the three years I spent as a writer and producer on BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. We had a great team on that show; terrific writers, a top-notch crew, and a superb cast. Ron was twice nominated for an Emmy for his portrayal of Vincent. If anyone ever makes a film of A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE, I wanted him to play the Hound." Jean Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast "The 1946 French version, perhaps better known by its original French title, La Belle et la Bête. Written and directed by the legendary Jean Cocteau, this classic remains the definitive take on the tale, and helped to inspire Ron Koslow when he created his television version. In an era when depicting actual blood on screen was frowned upon, Cocteau had the Beast's hands smoke whenever he returned from a hunt, a lovely and poetic image that remains powerful today. The Beast's spooky castle, with human arms poking from the walls to grasp torches, lingers in the memory as well. And Jean Marais makes a great Beast. Second only to Ron Perlman as Vincent, I'd say, but then, I'm prejudiced." Beauty and the Beast Calendar Art "George thought it would be fun to consider the scene where the Hound encounters Sansa in her darkened chamber while the Battle of the Blackwater rages outside. When I think about Sansa and the Hound, I think about Beauty and the Beast. I don't mean any specific incarnation of that storyline, but just a perverse version of it. However, if there was one version that did come to mind, it was Jean Cocteau's 1946 film La Belle et la Bête... Still — I figured, because of the relatively odd composition, it was a longshot that George would go for this. I submitted my sketches and ideas. He selected this one almost immediately." [Here is the La Belle et la Bête poster art that the Sansa and the Hound calendar art parallels.] "The Beast killed people. That was the point of the character. He was a beast." "There were battles over censorship, how sexual things could be, whether a scene was too “politically charged,” how violent things could be. Don’t want to disturb anyone. We got into that fight on Beauty and the Beast. The Beast killed people. That was the point of the character. He was a beast." Beauty and the Beast on CBS (1987, Mailing List) "Television -- like virtually ALL art -- operates on the assumption of the implied ellipsis. That is to say, we assume that you know or can infer certain that certain things took place, even if they are not shown on the screen or referred to in dialogue... "The bestiality thing was a concern with certain network execs, and some crazed viewers out there, but it was not the reason for the "no-kissing" rule. Koslow, Witt-Thomas, and CBS were all afraid of going too fast and losing the sexual tension. "Many of us felt there should have been a real kiss at the end of "A Happy Life," but we lost that fight. Howard and Alex finally got a kiss into "Orphans," of course... but actually, I never felt that was the best place for it. I desperately wanted a kiss for the end of the chess scene in "A Kingdom by the Sea," after Catherine tells Vincent that she wished it had been him instead of Elliott, but Ron wouldn't hear of it. "You'd be surprised how many scripts had kisses in them early on... "A television show in active production is a huge on-rushing monster that must be fed. Yes, those of us who worked on B&B did our damndest to make it a good show, and tried to put all sorts of wonderful things into the episodes; literary allusions, foreshadowing, symbolism, you name it. But we also had deadlines, and we were doing a television show, and sometimes things happened for much for, ah, practical reasons... "If Catherine and Vincent had ever married, it would have been in the final episode of the show after a ten-year run, ala M*A*S*H. Our show was a mythic adventure/romance, not a domestic drama. No doubt there are amy many misadventures and challenges after marriage, but that was not what we were about. BEAST KNOWS BEST is a whole different show... "Violence... We were determined that if we were going to depict violenece (or "action" as the network likes to call it), we were going to show it as it really is -- nasty, ugly, painful, with _consequences_ to its victims and perpetrators alike. Too much TV violence is bloodless is all senses of the word; not only don't you see any blood, you don't _feel_ anything. The violence is sanitized, cheap, easy; death is reduced to an act break. "Yes, we fell into that trap too from time to time, but for the most part, we tried to show violence as ugly, gut-wrenching, painful. "In the first draft of "A Kingdom by the Sea," I wrote in a kiss. I felt the scene demanded it, and it was about time. Alas, Kos insisted it come out. Not unexpected. There were other kisses in other episodes -- some times we writers got carried away too -- but Ron was the boss, and he always yanked them. Part of it was the network; not just the bestiality concern, although that was there, but the fear of dissipating the sexual/ romantic tension and seeing the show go the way of MOONLIGHTING and REMINGTON STEELE after they consummated their relation[ship]. Ron and the network both wanted the relationship to progress V*E*R*Y slowly. Also, I think Ron wanted to save The First Kiss for a. a season ending finale, and b. one of his own episodes... "The end-of-second-season trilogy was intended to lead into a beginning-of- third-season trilogy that we've referred to as the "Land of the Dead" storyline... Catherine supposedly screams in the final moment of the second season because she finds Vincent dead in the cave. In the third season, Vincent would have been interred in the catacombs, a grieving Catherine would have tried to get on with her life, and we would have followed Vincent through a bizarre, haunted streets of a city of darkness, where he would have faced many of the men he had killed. Thematically, this was meant to be the resolution of the Trilogy and its themes. "We wanted to use actors from previous episodes, playing characters that Vincent had killed... but he would also meet friends there. We hoped to bring back James Avery as Winslow. Ultimately, he would come face to face with the King of the Dead, who would of course be Paracelsus... again, resolving the Trilogy. And meanwhile his bond with Catherine would reach him even beyond the boundaries of life, and ultimately pull him back to the world of the living. He would wake up and burst free of his crypt, alive again, and we would never know if he had really been dead or not, if the adventure in the Land of the Dead had been true or just a very vivid dream... "Then... well... then came what you call Black Thursday, and Linda, and you know the rest. We never got to do it... "I think that B&B's exploration of the nature and morality of violence begins much earlier than some of you are acknowledging, although I will agree that it was not until late second season and third that these themes were explored in depth. The seeds were always there, however. "Look at the pilot, at the look on Catherine's face as she watches Vincent rip the bad guys to pieces, and at the look on Vincent's face when he sees her watching him. They are, respectively, looks of horror and shame. Now tell me another action show where the hero was ashamed to kill bad guys. We were never HUNTER, not even from the first. "Look at the second show: TERRIBLE SAVIOR. That's one of my own, and I know damn well that the heart of it is an examination of morality of violence. In many ways, Jason Walker is a precursor to the Dark Vincent of later episodes. He too is killing bad guys, but it is scarcely presented as a unquestioned good. The extent to which it is good or bad, the extent to which Jace is like or unlike Vincent... these are precisely what that episode is about." (added more quotes)

Next up, Sansa/Sandor.

I am having trouble putting someone on ignore because there are two identical user names, and the software picks the user with 0 posts. I'll sent the specific info via a report, I think if you just renamed (or deleted) the user with 0 posts, then we could ignore the active user. Thanks. (Also there's still the bug where you can't ignore someone with a comma in the user name, just thought I'd mention that...)

Thanks!

The new "Recently Browsing" thing at the bottom, I'm signed in anonymously and still appearing there. Or maybe the answer is, I'm just seeing myself because I'm signed in.

Oh, sorry about that. That was just a suggested workaround. I think it is a problem they should fix.

Sansa has called Corbray out as extremely dangerous in previous chapters, yet she goads him, twice. She goads Joffrey twice on his name day, and Sandor fishes her out twice. And Corbray also calls her one of LF's brood mares, which she doesn't pick up. And she turns away, and bumps into someone who catches her "before she could fall" (same exact wording) just like Sandor did repeatedly. And then she runs into someone "headlong" (same exact wording) just like she ran into Sandor. And he's Lothor, the one she thought was Sandor rescuing her before, and he calls Harry an arse (a word Sandor uses). Lots of little subtle hints. She's figuratively running into Sandor throughout the chapter. Like wishing Harry would fall off his horse, when she gasped when Sandor almost fell off his horse. Like talking to someone who mocks knights, and this time she laughs. Like the listening to the knights outside, and there are the women at the washing well again, like when she defended Sandor's "jousting" (and we know she gets it now). And more. And now...