Valar Morghulis – Arya Stark and Sandor Clegane in ASoS

Arya and the Hound by ChaoyuanXu on DeviantArt

Arya’s first introduction to Sandor Clegane was most likely at her home when the royal party came to Winterfell. But it was his killing of her friend Mycah that lodged him in her brain as Enemy Number One. While she doesn’t witness the act, or the return of the body, she hears the tale from others– Jeyne Poole tells her: the Hound “cut him up in so many pieces that they’d given him back to the butcher in a bag”, while Jory tells her something closer to the truth: “[he] cut him near in half” and her father names it murder: “That murder lies at the Hound’s door, him and the cruel woman he serves.”

In ASoS Sandor himself attempts to justify the act when he is put on trial for murder by the BwB: “I was Joffrey’s sworn shield. The butcher’s boy attacked a prince of the blood.” Since we’ll see that Sandor, while he is a brutal killer, is honest and possessed of a certain honor (“Don’t lie … I hate liars. I hate gutless frauds even worse”), perhaps we can assume that perhaps his version close to the truth as he perceives it. When questioned about Mycah’s crime by Lord Beric, Sandor replies “I heard it from the royal lips. It’s not my place to question princes.”

Regardless of Sandor’s defense, the killing of Mycah has earned him a prominent place in Arya’s “prayers”, side by side with the people responsible for killing her father. By the time she encounters him in ASoS, when they are captives of the BwB, she has prayed for his death “hundreds of times.” The night before Sandor is brought in by the Huntsman she thinks about the people on her list: “Maybe some of them are dead … Maybe they’re in iron cages someplace, and the crows are picking out their eyes.” The next morning she wakes to the Hound about to be imprisoned in a cage outside her window. Have the gods heard her prayers?

When Sandor is brought before Lord Beric, he mocks the BwB for calling themselves knights. Then the BwB begin to accuse him of all the crimes of Lannister soldiers, holding him personally responsible for acts committed by others. His reaction is one of bitter anger: “Might be you are knights after all. You lie like knights, maybe you murder like knights.” He makes it quite clear what his opinion of knights is, saying:

“A knight’s a sword with a horse. The rest, the vows and the sacred oils and the lady’s favors, they’re silk ribbons tied round the sword. Maybe the sword’s prettier with ribbons hanging off it, but it will kill you just as dead. Well, bugger your ribbons, and shove your swords up your arses. I’m the same as you. The only difference is, I don’t lie about what I am. So, kill me, but don’t call me a murderer while you stand there telling each other that your shit don’t stink.”

Sandor is given a trial by combat against Lord Beric. When Beric’s sword breaks and he falls to the Hound, it seems the gods have spoken:

Arya could only think of Mycah and all the stupid prayers she’d prayed for the Hound to die. If there were gods, why didn’t Lord Beric win? She knew the Hound was guilty.

What happens next is perhaps the first moment that Arya sees Sandor as a human being rather than a beast:

“Please,” Sandor Clegane rasped, cradling his arm. “I’m burned. Help me. Someone. Help me.” He was crying. “Please.” Arya looked at him in astonishment. He’s crying like a little baby, she thought.

Arya grabs a knife and tries to attack the Hound as he is helped to his feet. When she sees his wounds, we get the faintest glimmer of compassion in Arya’s PoV:

His arm, Arya thought, and his face. But he was the Hound. He deserved to burn in a fiery hell.

With righteous anger, Arya accuses him again. Thinking his confession might make them kill him once and for all:

“You killed Mycah,” she said once more, daring him to deny it. “Tell them. You did. You did.”

His confession, dramatic and graphic as it is, seems designed for maximum impact, causing us to wonder if he had the same hope in mind:

“I did.” His whole face twisted. “I rode him down and cut him in half, and laughed. I watched them beat your sister bloody too, watched them cut your father’s head off.”

Arya’s despair and rage know no bounds when she screams at him:

“You go to hell, Hound… You just go to hell!”

It is Lord Beric who sees clearly the hell that the Hound exists in:

“He has,” said a voice scarce stronger than a whisper.

To Arya’s disgust, the BwB allow the Hound to go free. But he returns not long after, looking to retrieve the gold they took from him. She is still filled with rage and threatens to kill not only Sandor, but his brother as well:

“Next time I will kill you. I’ll kill your brother too!”

Sandor assures her that she won’t and asks if she knows what dogs do to wolves, a question that remains in her mind for some time.

When he seizes her away from the BwB and carries her off through the Riverlands she continually tries to kill him. He finally warns her that if she escapes she’ll only get caught by someone worse, like his brother. When Arya reveals that she already knows Ser Gregor, and his men too, having been their captive, Sandor is highly amused:

“Caught you? My brother caught you? Gregor never knew what he had, did he? He couldn’t have, or he would have dragged you back kicking and screaming to King’s Landing and dumped you in Cersei’s lap. Oh, that’s bloody sweet. I’ll be sure and tell him that, before I cut his heart out.”

Though it’s  not the first time she’s heard this, Arya seems somewhat shocked. Sandor taunts her with her own sister, whom he guesses she had a less than warm relationship with. He also mocks her hatred of him, and her desire to kill him:

Because I hacked your little friend in two? I’ve killed a lot more than him, I promise you. You think that makes me some monster. Well, maybe it does, but I saved your sister’s life too. The day the mob pulled her off her horse, I cut through them and brought her back to the castle, else she would have gotten what Lollys Stokeworth got. And she sang for me. You didn’t know that, did you? Your sister sang me a sweet little song.

Arya’s view of the Hound has become increasingly complex, from that moment of pity for his wounds, to the revelation of his hatred for his brother, his assertions of his own honesty, and now his claim to being her sister’s protector, a role the reader knows to be true. For whatever reason, when faced with the opportunity to betray him, she fails to do so:

“How do I know you’re good for it?” the bent-backed man asked, after a moment. He’s not, she wanted to shout. instead she bit her lip. “Knight’s honor,” the Hound said, unsmiling. He’s not even a knight. She did not say that either.

Of course we know exactly what the Hound thinks of knights, so it’s hard to judge his lie here. His utter disdain for the the institution extends even to those who blindly revere it:

“Knights have no bloody honor. Time you learned that, old man.”

Once across the Trident, the Hound finally reveals to Arya where he is taking her:

You think your outlaw friends are the only ones can smell a ransom? Dondarrion took my gold, so I took you. You’re worth twice what they stole from me, I’d say. Maybe even more if I sold you back to the Lannisters like you fear, but I won’t. Even a dog gets tired of being kicked. 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. Maybe I’ll even kill Gregor for him, he’d like that.

After their disastrous attempt to enter the Twins during the Red Wedding, both Arya and the Hound appear numb, unable to take action. Arya thinks of her mother constantly and berates the Hound for not letting her (or helping her!) try to save her. She wishes he had let her run into the castle, and he replies:

“You’d be dead if I had. You ought to thank me. You ought to sing me a pretty little song, the way your sister did.”

He’s now saved both of their lives, a situation that some might argue leaves both Stark girls in his debt. He has also slipped into the role of teacher, giving Arya instruction in things from how to loot a body, treat wounds and even how to give the gift of mercy:

“That’s where the heart is, girl. That’s how you kill a man.”

When Sandor takes a serious wound after the fight at the Inn where he kills Polliver and Arya kills the Tickler and the squire, Arya treats his wounds and then finds herself leaving him out of her prayers:

She had left his name out too, she realized. Why had she done that? She tried to think of Mycah, but it was hard to remember what he’d looked like. She hadn’t known him long. All he ever did was play at swords with me. “The Hound,” she whispered, and, “Valar morghulis.” Maybe he’d be dead by morning…

It seems like the implication is that as she has become familiar with Sandor, she has forgotten Mycah. The Hound is no longer in her prayers, perhaps because she sees the inevitability of his death (“Valar morghulis”) or perhaps because she no longer thinks him worthy of her brand of “mercy.” Remember that mercy for Arya implies death, while for others (notably her sister Sansa) it means pity and compassion. Perhaps a hint of compassion snuck in at the end.

At any rate, when the end finally seems at hand, Arya is unable to kill him, though she has promised him death dozens of times and has had a long internal debate over her reasons for killing him. Sandor begs her to do it:

“Don’t lie,” he growled. “I hate liars. I hate gutless frauds even worse. Go on, do it.” When Arya did not move, he said, “I killed your butcher’s boy. I cut him near in half, and laughed about it after.” 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.” A spasm of pain twisted his face. “Do you mean to make me beg, bitch? Do it! The gift of mercy… avenge your little Michael…”

Sandor’s words here, and even his tears, closely echo the scene with the BwB earlier, though his tone has changed from one of defiance to one of desperate regret. But his attempts to bait her into a killing rage fail, and she tells him:

You don’t deserve the gift of mercy.

As she leaves him, in her thoughts she comes back to the interplay of dogs and wolves:

Maybe some real wolves will find you… Maybe they’ll smell you when the sun goes down. Then he would learn what wolves did to dogs.

Arya’s feelings about the Hound seem to have become increasingly complex. By the end we really can’t be sure if he doesn’t deserve mercy because she no longer wants to kill him, or if she merely wants to prolong his suffering. Nor can we say the options are mutually exclusive. What she has learned from close contact with Sandor seems to be at odds with what she thought she knew previously. It would be small wonder if she were experiencing some amount of cognitive dissonance. As she enters Braavos and beholds the Titan at close range, her thoughts return to the Riverlands, and perhaps a tinge of regret:

The Hound had been dying when she left him on the banks of the Trident, burning up with fever from his wound. I should have given him the gift of mercy and put a knife into his heart.

The multi faceted concept of mercy as a gift can be directly related to the “Gift” Arya will learn about at the HoBaW in Braavos. At times the Gift of the Faceless Men is a punishment, while at other times it is a release:

“Death is not the worst thing,” the kindly man replied. “It is His gift to us, an end to want and pain.”

Yet the kindly man also cautions:

“It is not for you to say who shall live and who shall die. That gift belongs to Him of Many Faces.”

While this lesson contrasts with the northern justice she was raised with, Arya may have shown in the case of Sandor Clegane an unwitting foreshadowing of the creed of the Faceless Men that she will struggle with in her time in Braavos.

 

As discussed in Radio Westeros Episode 11 – A Knight’s Honour

See more Sandor analysis in The Will to Change: Rereading Sandor

Art by chaoyuanxu

Supreme Court of Westeros

I was honored to participate in the Supreme Court of Westeros twice this month! First indirectly, when the court took on the Lem theory in ruling 58 (Spoiler– it didn’t fare well, gaining the support of only one of three judges. BUT — feedback from the community has been very positive!) Most excitingly, I was a guest judge for ruling 59 last week. I always love the chance to write about ASoIaF, and answering three questions from the fandom concisely was a fun challenge. Thanks to Stefan and Amin for letting me join in!

Two Little Birds: Melisandre and Davos

Stannis by Calliope

Stannis stood abruptly. “R’hllor. Why is that so hard? They will not love me, you say? When have they ever loved me? How can I lose something I have never owned?” He moved to the south window to gaze out at the moonlit sea. “I stopped believing in gods the day I saw the Windproud break up across the bay. Any gods so monstrous as to drown my mother and father would never have my worship, I vowed. In King’s Landing, the High Septon would prattle at me of how all justice and goodness flowed from the Seven, but all I ever saw of either was made by men.”

“If you do not believe in gods —”

“ — why trouble with this new one?” Stannis broke in. “I have asked myself as well. I know little and care less of gods, but the red priestess has power.”

Yes, but what sort of power? “Cressen had wisdom.”

“I trusted in his wisdom and your wiles, and what did they avail me, smuggler? The storm lords sent you packing. I went to them a beggar and they laughed at me. Well, there will be no more begging, and no more laughing either. The Iron Throne is mine by rights, but how am I to take it? There are four kings in the realm, and three of them have more men and more gold than I do. I have ships . . . and I have her. The red woman. Half my knights are afraid even to say her name, did you know? If she can do nothing else, a sorceress who can inspire such dread in grown men is not to be despised. A frightened man is a beaten man. And perhaps she can do more. I mean to find out.

“When I was a lad I found an injured goshawk and nursed her back to health. Proudwing, I named her. She would perch on my shoulder and flutter from room to room after me and take food from my hand, but she would not soar. Time and again I would take her hawking, but she never flew higher than the treetops. Robert called her Weakwing. He owned a gyrfalcon named Thunderclap who never missed her strike. One day our great-uncle Ser Harbert told me to try a different bird. I was making a fool of myself with Proudwing, he said, and he was right.” Stannis Baratheon turned away from the window, and the ghosts who moved upon the southern sea.

“The Seven have never brought me so much as a sparrow. It is time I tried another hawk, Davos. A red hawk.”

George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings, Davos I

In the preceding passage from ACoK, Stannis talks about his disillusionment with the Seven after he witnessed his parents’ deaths in a storm on Shipbreaker Bay. He then goes on to equate the Faith of the Seven with his one-time pet goshawk Weakwing, while suggesting that the faith of R’hllor might be a different kind of hawk altogether. Not only does this discussion reveal Stannis’s pragramtic and somewhat cynical view of religion, but it also leaves room for correlating Davos and Melisandre with these two religions. In this sense one could view Davos and Mel, who are arguably the chief of Stannis’s advisers, as the opposing birds on his shoulders. Perhaps like Odin’s ravens Hugin and Munin, who represent thought and memory, or the shoulder angels of Christian iconography, Mel and Davos represent a duality in Stannis’s thinking that in his cynical pragmatism he feels free to embrace.

It has been argued that Stannis grows in flexibility surrounding the issue of religion as his arc progresses, and it’s possible this could be tied to Davos’s rise as a principal adviser. In this sense Davos could represent, perhaps not the Seven precisely, but respect for the faiths of the fathers in something that might be called memory, as embodied by Odin’s raven Munin. Melisandre, on the other hand, represents the new faith, prescience and forethought, or the concept of thought as embodied by Hugin.

We first see both Davos and Melisandre in Cressen’s point-of-view chapter, where we learn that Davos and Cressen seem to have a mutual respect, while Cressen and Melisandre have a mutual wariness. Cressen finds Mel’s influence on Stannis to be dangerous, to say the least. When a comment by Selyse makes it plain to him that Melisandre will advocate, if not foster, Stannis killing Renly, Cressen determines to kill Mel. Yet we know from Mel’s point of view in ADwD that the first thing she had learned to see in the flames, and the first thing she always looked for, was danger to her own person. While Stannis later confesses he did not want Cressen to die, he appears to suggest there was some inevitability to his death, meaning Mel has convinced him that it was necessary and, if we know anything about Stannis, just. Davos, on the other hand, tries to remind Stannis of Cressen’s wisdom and faithfulness. When Davos determines to kill Mel himself after Blackwater, she again proves that she is aware of dangers to herself. Later in ASoS, while smuggling Edric Storm to freedom, Davos asserts that Mel perceives these dangers in her flames. He has reached any uneasy stalemate with the Red Woman, based mostly upon the conviction that no mortal weapon could stop her.

Both Mel and Davos exert greater influence upon Stannis than any other adviser we see until Jon Snow convinces him of his course of action relative to the North in ADwD. It is Mel who directs most of his policy in ACoK, with her promises of delivering his kingdom to him using the divine power at her disposal. She brings him to Storm’s End and his brother’s death. Because she has interpreted her vision of the Blackwater defeat as a morrow never made she encourages Stannis in besieging the city, going as far as to predict victory, though Davos remains naturally cautious. After the defeat of the Blackwater becomes reality, Stannis retreats to Dragonstone to grind his teeth and consider his options. Melisandre begins to prepare Stannis to turn his focus to the battle to come:

These little wars are no more than a scuffle of children before what is to come. The one whose name may not be spoken is marshaling his power  . . . a power fell and evil and strong beyond measure. Soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends.

From ASoS onwards Davos is given increasing access and trust due to his loyalty and pragmatism. Both Mel and Davos prove to be devoted to Stannis, and are quite single-minded and confident of what they believe in, so they do share some common ground in spite of their obvious differences. The result is that they are great foils to each other. While Melisandre advocates a very black-and-white world view, which seems on the surface to fit with Stannis’s all-or-nothing view of justice and truth, Davos has a more nuanced viewpoint. Davos has the appearance of being very black and white, with his devotion and loyalty to Stannis framing his commitment to truth. But, like Stannis, he can see value in actions that perhaps Mel cannot. In relying upon her flames, Mel can sometimes miss the simple conclusions about people that Davos sees quite clearly. This, along with his commitment to truth, turns out to be exactly what Stannis values, as we see when he raises Davos to a Lordship and the office of Hand of the King:

[D]o you swear to serve me loyally all your days, to give me honest counsel [emphasis mine] and swift obedience, to defend my rights and my realm against all foes in battles great and small, to protect my people and punish my enemies?

In spite of Davos’ objections, Stannis reminds him that “All I ask of you are the things you’ve always given me. Honesty. Loyalty. Service.” What Stannis needs is someone honest and sensible enough to help him win his temporal kingdom in advance of the great battle Mel is preparing him for.

Following the escape of Edric Storm, it seems that in spite of Davos’s transgression, Stannis cannot bring himself to let go of one of the only two honest and faithful advisers he has. When Davos presents the letter from the Night’s Watch which contains information Davos knows Mel has seen in her flames, we see perhaps the first intersection of their agendas.

From Davos’s viewpoint, the defense of Westeros from the Wildling threat is a pragmatic strategy aimed at gaining the support of the northern lords by defending the kingdom as the true king should. As he tells Stannis, “[You] had the cart before the horse . . .[,] trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, [rather than] trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.” Mel on the other hand, sees the Wall as the place where the next battle for the Dawn will begin. In her view, Stannis as Azor Ahai Reborn is man’s savior from an endless winter. Yet for the first time in Stannis’s quest for the throne, his principal advisers have a common recommendation.

Once Stannis begins to balance the advice of these two, to consider both thought and memory as it were, his way must seem more clear. Certainly he sends Davos on his pragmatic mission to raise White Harbor with a clear goal of gaining the support of northern lords. Mel remains at his side to advise him on what the flames tell her about the Enemy and the battle to come.

Both Melisandre and Davos are invaluable resources for Stannis. From providing him with supernatural knowledge to giving him steady and honest advice, without these two voices on his shoulders Stannis’s way forward might not have been clear to him, and his opportunities and successes may have been dramatically different. Though their voices are sometimes in opposition, their common goal of success for their King unites them in a unique and powerful way.

As discussed in Radio Westeros Episode 07: Stannis- A Just Man

Artwork courtesy of Calliope, with many thanks!