all the love for sansa stark

the game of irony..

sansa, a beautiful stark girl, wanted a beautiful young prince but was treated like a princess, only by his uncle, the imp

tyrion lost faith in love years ago, thinks that he’s not worth of lady’s love and respect but was described by sansa as “kind” and “gentle”

arya didn’t want a prince, didn’t want a man at all but had/has a crush on gendry, the real son of robert baratheon, young and handsome man

gendry dislikes all highborns but eddard stark’s daughter is ok

jaime, the golden son, thought that he was attracted only to his sister, cersei but fell in love with a woman far less attractive

brienne hates guys like jaime but loves jaime

8

It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb… Robb… please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting… The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. “Mad,” someone said, “she’s lost her wits,” and someone else said, “Make an end,” and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she’d done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.

8

make me choose: sansa or sansa (for anonymous)

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.

8

🔥 A Song of Ice and Fire projectA Gifset per every chapter

↪ A Game of Thrones, XLV, Eddard XII

“My son Bran … ”

To her credit, Cersei did not look away. “He saw us. You love your children, do you not?”

Robert had asked him the very same question, the morning of the melee. He gave her the same answer. “With all my heart.”

“No less do I love mine.”

Ned thought, If it came to that, the life of some child I did not know, against Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, what would I do? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon’s life, against the children of her body? He did not know. He prayed he never would. 

Sansa’s first scene in A Game of Thrones, and the readers’ introduction to her from a POV perspective, starts with her feeding Lady under the table, and I’m quite sure this was intentional.

“I’ve never seen an aurochs,” Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen.”

Septa Mordane sniffed i disapproval. “A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table,” she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread.

“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.”

The septa was not appeased. “You’re a good girl, Sansa, but I do vow, when it comes to that creature you’re as willful as your sister Arya.”

(page 139)

Like Sansa, Lady is courteous and perfectly disciplined. By hiding Lady, Sansa keeps up the appearances of a noble lady, but she refuses to let go of Lady. Lady is her tie to her Northern heritage, and her identity, and in her first scene, Sansa has learned to hide Lady. Sansa is not openly rebellious like Arya, who skips meals with the Queen to go riding with her friend, but she makes sure her rebellions are small, silent, and disciplined. When Lady dies, Sansa loses that concrete tie to her Northern identity, and while in Kings landing she has to sever any open connection or loyalty to her family. When she becomes Alayne she has to submerge her identity even further, but I think the key to her character the constant small assertions of her identity: her trips to the Godswood, telling Joffrey Robb might bring her his head, telling Cersei she will make the people love her, not fear her. These are all small assertions of who Sansa really is, a glimpse of when she keeps “under the table” in her mind.

Sansa and her family.

In the fandom there is this understanding that  while Sansa is loved by her siblings she didnt  appreciate them in return. But Do they really loved her without judgement? No, they didnt. Lets see how many times they thought Sansa was naive or stupid because she loved songs or was too “girly”

Sansa would have sighed and shed a tear for true love, but Arya just thought it was stupid. 

“Rubies,” Sansa said, lost. “What rubies?”

Arya gave her a look like she was so stupid. 

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. Hot Pie and Gendry had left her just as soon as they could, and Lord Beric and the outlaws only wanted to ransom her, just like the Hound.

That’s stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she’d never marry the Imp. 

The Titan of Braavos. Old Nan had told them stories of the Titan back in Winterfell. He was a giant as tall as a mountain, and whenever Braavos stood in danger he would wake with fire in his eyes, his rocky limbs grinding and groaning as he waded out into the sea to smash the enemies. “The Braavosi feed him on the juicy pink flesh of little highborn girls,” Nan would end, and Sansa would give a stupid squeak.

 I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. 

Bran did not understand, so he asked the Reeds. “Do you like to read books, Bran?” Jojen asked him.“Some books. I like the fighting stories. My sister Sansa likes the kissing stories, but those are stupid.”

While I agree that Sansa was awful to Arya and made her feel bad about her looks, its clear that Arya (and Bran) dont have a good opinion on her sister either. They (much like all Cersei, or Littlefinger, or even Tyrion sometimes…) believe she is a stupid little girl. And its quite frankly irritating to read metas about how Sansa didnt understand how much her family loved her, or understood her, when in truth it was not like that at all.. Both are guilty of not reaching one another. Its a two way relationship. 

3

[Catelyn] put a finger to his lips. “Let me tell it all, my love. It will go faster that way. Listen.”
So he listened, and she told it all, from the fire in the library tower to Varys and the guardsmen and Littlefinger. And when she was done, Eddard Stark sat dazed beside the table, the dagger in his hand. Bran’s wolf had saved the boy’s life, he thought dully.
          What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa’s, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done? 

Eddard IV, AGoT 

A Game of Stars

Jonsa • Star Wars AU

Read: here (Tumblr) or here (AO3)!

Sansa Stark may not be Force-sensitive, but having one of the most powerful Force lineages in the galaxy makes for a charmed life. Growing up on Alderaan, Sansa has little to worry about besides her sister’s pranks, the quick temper of her fiancé Joffrey, and the growing rumors of a rebellion against the Targaryen Empire.

That all ends when Ned Stark, one of the Empire’s most trusted lords, is revealed to be a rebel himself. House Stark is stripped of its lands and power and Ned is taken to Coruscant as a hostage, while the rest of the once-great family is banished from the Core Worlds. Sansa is horrified to be leaving her home in disgrace, but her family isn’t done with the rebellion. There’s another secret Ned Stark has been keeping to protect his children from becoming weapons of the Empire: the Stark children are, in fact, Force-sensitive.

Sansa finds herself living on the frozen wasteland of Hoth, a planet devoid of life except for fearsome creatures like tauntauns, direwolves, and underground rebels. All she wants is to be back in Alderaan, not helping the rebel army and training to use the Force—no matter how much she loves the Jedi knights from old songs. But while her siblings have their own Force gifts, none of them can manipulate the thoughts of others as well as Sansa, making her invaluable to the rebels.

Jon Targaryen is more than just the Mad Emperor’s grandson being groomed to take the Kyber Throne: he’s an imperial general who uses the Force to command Rhaegal, one of the galaxy’s three legendary dragon-class starships. Fearsome in combat, there are whispers that he wields his red lightsaber like a flaming sword as he leads his elite stormtrooper unit Blizzard Force into battle. Jon, a bastard, was never meant to rule until his siblings were killed by rebels. After their deaths, Jon wants nothing more than to end the rebellion once and for all.

It’s a small galaxy, and secrets don’t stay hidden for long. When the Mad Emperor’s little birds tell him that the Starks are Force-sensitive, he tracks them down, discovering the hidden rebel base on Hoth. He sends Jon and Blizzard Force there with one order: Burn them all. But bring the Stark children to Coruscant.

It’s time for the two most powerful Force bloodlines in the galaxy to merge.

Queen in the North {Pt. 2}

Originally posted by ladysarah94

Requested: By myself, because I am Trash™. Also some other absolutely lovely people.

Pairings: Robb Stark x Reader

Previously: {Part 1}

Summary: Y/N was sent to live with The Stark family at a young age, and ever since then, she seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than she had ever noticed.

Warnings: I just watched the episode so fluff to the max

Word Count: 2,433

A/N: I am so pleased to see how many of you like the first part to this, and I sincerely hope that the second part is even better! Special shoutout to @secretschuylersister for looking over this/encouraging me to actually post it. If you have any requests, please feel free to send them to my ask box!

It was nice of Sansa to say that she was almost done poking and prodding and adjusting your dress, even if you all knew that it was a lie. Sansa had and affinity for dressing you up, claiming that if she tried it with Arya, she would lose a finger. You couldn’t say that the idea was entirely off base.

The dress was lovely. It looked a bit delicate in comparison to the usual style that ladies favored in Winterfell.  It was somehow different and you’re the same as the dresses that you favored on an everyday basis. Although you had lived in Winterfell for most of your life, your mother and father had lived much farther south.

So, you tended to favor lighter dresses, made of silk and lace in a wide array of colors. Jon liked to tease you that you were the brightest thing to ever live in Winterfell. What you didn’t know is how much Robb silently agreed with him. The dress was white, with layers of gray peeking through towards the bottom. It was lovely, although you had no idea how Sansa had managed such a lovely effect in the short amount of time since she had asked you about making a dress.

“I may have been working on it for a little while before I asked if it was okay,” she said, picking it up off of the bed and motioning for you to change into it. “But I knew that you were going to say yes anyways.”

You laughed, she was right. You had a hard time telling people no, especially when they were doing something so nice for you. After all, the Starks were your family. And if they were willing to put the time in to help you, then there was no way that you were going to refuse. It did make your schedule feel a bit cramped at times, in between dagger lessons with Arya and the boys, knitting with Sansa and tea with Lady Stark, who was forever insisting that you call her Catelyn, there were never enough hours in the day, something you often fought about with Robb.

“Well then, put it on!” Sansa laughed, tossing you the dress and pulling out her needle and thread, claiming that there were a few alterations that needed to be made. Sansa worked in silence, adding a few stitches here and there. And somehow, when she was done, the dress looked even more spectacular. She had managed to somehow make it fit you like a glove at the top, yet have the perfect amount of sway and flow in the skirts.

“Thank you, Sansa,” you said, admiring the skirts in her mirror. If you hadn’t been so caught up in how nice it was for Sansa to make you this lovely dress, you might have noticed the smug look on her face as she admired you admiring her dress. And you might have noticed that you were wearing in the Stark family’s colors. “But I really think that I should go see if your mother needs help preparing-”

“I was downstairs with her all morning. While you were fretting over nothing, I was making sure that you didn’t have an excuse to run away.” She laughed, guiding you over to the chair that was set up in front of her mirror. “Now, you have to stay and let me do something with this.” She sighed, motioning to the braid that you wore every day. Sansa took your braid in her hands, making quick work of fanning it out across your shoulders, running a brush gently through the ends or your hair.

“I cannot understand why you never take the time to style your hair unless I force you to. You know that anyone would do anything for you.” Sansa rain her hands through your hair, twisting it one way and then another, attempting to choose a style for that evening.

“I would rather spend my time with other engagements. And I’m sure that every single person in this castle has at least five things that they need to be doing at any given time. And shockingly, none of them include helping me with my hair.” You laughed, raising an eyebrow at her in the mirror.

“And does one of those things include pretending that you aren’t in love with my brother? Or is that simply a given, considering it is something that you do every waking minute of every day?”

You felt yourself tense, your shoulders locking back into place and your teeth grinding against each other. Sansa, on the other hand, continued brushing your hair into place, humming a soft tune to herself. You wished that you had an appropriate comeback, but you were left to sit there, mouth agape, while Sansa fussed with your hair for longer than should have been possible.

You’d hoped that you would have a bit of time to yourself before the feast that evening, but Sansa had insisted that a bit of rouge had never hurt anyone. By the time that she decided you were ready, the both of you were late.

“A queen never arrives at her own party on time.” Sansa laughed as you hurried down the hall. You hated to be late, and it seemed that the only time you were more than a few seconds late to anything was when Sansa insisted on helping you get ready.

“Then it’s really too bad that I am not a queen.” you reminded her, withholding a glare.

She snorted at you in a very un Sansa-like way, simply brushing past you and breezing easily into the banquet. You, on the other hand, were not nearly as confident. You took a moment to steady yourself, a moment to catch your breath, before stepping into the banquet hall.

The noise and liveliness of the hall erupted around you, pulling you in. You glanced around, taking in the musicians and the dancers that took up most of the space in the large banquet hall. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were elated to see Robb standing with Jon and Theon near the edge of the dance floor.

You gathered up your expansive skirts, making your way along the edge of the room to the boys.

“Well don’t you just look dashing in the Stark colors?” Jon teased you, gesturing for you to do a twirl.

You landed a punch on his arm, not hard enough to actually hurt him, but firm enough to tell him to shut his big mouth, paired with an expression that told him you were going to pretend to be cross with him for a while. “If you must know, your lovely sister made me this gown, and as usual I had no say about the colors. But, I’m sure that it is just coincidence.” You attempted to sound sincere, even though you knew what Sansa was most likely thinking when she was picking out the material.

You pretended to listen to the boys ramble on about one thing or another, but your eyes were scanning the room in search of Arya. You knew that she was not particularly fond of feasts, so you always made a point to seek her out and reassure her, even if it was only for a few minutes. After few moments of searching, you spotted her, slumped into a chair, looking like she would much rather be anywhere else but here.

You felt Robb’s hand rest on the small of your back, attempting to draw your attention away from the very important matter at hand. “Y/N, do you want to-”

“Maybe in a minute, Robb,” you said, already making your way over to Arya, not even bothering to look back towards the sound of Jon’s booming laughter.

“Arya!” you laughed, taking her hands in your own and pulling her out of the chair. “Won’t you come and dance with me?”

“You know that I have been skipping my lessons,” she mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. Somehow, she was in a worse mood than usual.

“I never said that we were going to make our way through the most boring waltz in existence.” You were already halfway to the band, who looked almost as morose as Arya, which wasn’t surprising when you thought about the music that they were being forced to play. “If this is to be the mood for the entire evening, we are all going to die of boredom.”

You let go of Arya’s hands for a few moments to whisper your instructions to the band. They all seemed to perk up immediately, sitting up in their chairs, the light coming back into their eyes. The tune changed from the sullen one that you had grown accustomed to hearing, to one that was jubilant and full of life. Reclaiming Arya’s hands in your own, your spun her around, prancing around in ridiculous circles until a smile finally graced her lips, and then a small laugh bubbled through, and you knew that your work was done.

You gave her one last smile, twirling her in another circle before stumbling off of the dance floor. All of the spinning had made you a bit dizzy, and with all of the skirts that Sansa had swaddled you up in, you weren’t surprised that you had nearly tripped a few times before you had even made it away from the dancers.

Robb’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you away from the mass of bodies that had swarmed the dance floor. You would have been surprised, especially because you hadn’t thought that Robb was anywhere near you, but he had a habit of turning up when you needed someone.

“What was it that you wanted earlier?” You asked breathlessly, collapsing into the chair that he had guided you to.

“Do you remember when my mother was so angry at us for sneaking into these feasts that she made us attend all of those dreadful dancing lessons?” Robb asked, smiling at Arya dancing with Rickon among the masses.

“Of course I do,” you laughed, recalling the many afternoons you had spent with your slightly nasty dance master. “Your mother was so sure that we would never turn up to another ball again if we had to take those lessons, but you were at every single lesson.”

“Naturally, you were so excited, and there was no way that I was going to miss it when you tripped over your own two feet.”

“If I recall correctly, you were always responsible for catching me after I messed up a new step.” You lazily punched him in the shoulder, but the laughter died in your throat as Robb caught your fist and linked his hand with yours.

“And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

It wasn’t the act of holding his hand in yours that caused your breathing to falter. You had been holding pinkies since you had met, so after that, what was a hand? It was the way that his eyes were staring into yours, unwavering. For the first time in a long time, you felt yourself blushing because of Robb Stark.

It wasn’t something that happened often, the two of you had grown up together, after all. Your mother had been best friends with Cat, and when they passed away, it was no question that you were going to stay with Ned and his family.

You had been quiet when you arrived at Winterfell for the first time. It had only been a day or two since your mother and father had moved on, taken from you suddenly by a terrible affliction. You were assured that your friends would all be waiting for you, but that wasn’t good enough. You wanted your parents.

And even though you constantly reminded Robb of that, he was there for you at every turn. Bringing you a flower he found near a spring, hoping to make you smile, or telling you a poorly thought out joke, just waiting for just a glimpse of the dimples he used to know so well. And as much as you wanted to give him a glimpse of your former self, you needed time. Somehow, even at such a young age, both of you understood. And you had remained solemn, until one afternoon, he heard a giggle echoing from her chambers.

Robb threw open the door to find you sifting through a drawer full of dried flowers, picking them up one by one and examining them. He marched into the room, demanding to know why you had been so sad before. You never had been able to give him an answer, simply handing him one of the flowers and telling him that you were sorry. You never had offered him an explanation for those first few weeks.

“Y/N?” Robb’s voice and both of his hands cupping yours somehow managing to effectively draw you back to reality. “Are you okay?” his voice was soft, almost as if he was afraid to scare you away. He should know better than that by now.

“I was thinking about when I first came to live with you, well everyone. And you worried yourself over making me feel welcome, and you were so confused when you found me with that drawer full of flowers.” You sounded dreamy, still thinking about the days when things felt easier.

“You never did tell me why you kept all of those flowers. Especially when they never made you smile in the first place.” He smiled down at your hands, where his thumb was stroking the back of your hand.

“Because I knew that they were going to make me happy eventually,” You met his eyes, hoping that he understood what you were trying to tell him. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” Robb looked like he was going to answer, but you were finished wasting time moping about when there was a party going on. “Let’s dance, Stark.”

And without another word, the two of you were out of your chairs and headed for the dance floor. The musicians had kept their promise, and the music was lively. You were pleased to see that Arya had dragged Sansa into a group of dancers, and it brought a smile to your face to see that everyone was happy, for the time being. It was rare to stumble upon a moment where someone wasn’t squabbling, and when you managed to find one, you most certainly weren’t going to take it for granted.

Read Part Three Here!

Game Of Thrones Characters Season 7 My Edit

THE LANNISTER SIBLINGS

I love the Lannister’s they be are some of the most problematic siblings on GOT but they are incredibly engaging to watch and I love their storylines and can’t wait to see where it leads.

THE STARK SIBLINGS

The Starks are a very easy family to root for and not many people don’t enjoy them as they are all so incredibly different, there is usually something for everyone. Like Sansa once a naive little girl now becoming a strong politician who knows she needs to protect herself and cherish the home she once wanted to leave, Arya a trained assassin with empathy for innocent people who seeks revenge for her family, Bran once a cripple and now full of magic and incredible feats but also a incredible burden.

THE TARGARYEN’S

The Targaryen’s are also a incredibly problematic family but it’s easy to see why these two are so vastly popular. Both incredibly different from the rest, big protagonist’s on a different yet greatly paralleled journey that’s going to converge with each other very soon. One thinks she’s the last of her family in the world who feels incredibly alone and fights to make the world a little brighter and for people to have their own free will, as she had to fight and struggle for her own independence her entire life, the other always been a outsider in his own family not knowing his actually a Targaryen and always trying to be just and honourable like the man who raised him and fit in somewhere even though people are constantly bringing him down. They need each other which is why I can’t wait for Jonerys to meet.

BRIENNE’S LOVE TRIANGLE 

The triangle I never knew I wanted, Brienne and Jamie had a rough start but have become one of the most moving relationships on the show, their feelings for each other are pretty obvious but he needs to leave his toxic relationship with his twin sister if there is any hope for him not just for Brienne but to be a decent human being. Tormund respects strong independent women unlike the lords of Westeros who would laugh at Brienne, so his another good option for her as he wouldn’t try and make her something she isn’t but his flirting needs some work and a bit of toning down if he wants her not to be so freaked out by him lol.

THE ONCE ABUSED BUT NOW POWERFUL WOMEN

All these women were abused by selfish men but now they are confident powerful women all in their own rights.

Like Missandei stolen as a child to be turned into a slave for years getting abused her entire life and having her free will and dreams stripped away, Dany having a abusive brother who only admitted he loved her once and thinking he owns her to sell her away to a man for his own agenda, then before adjusting to the Dothraki culture being raped every night before she had the courage and strength to get her husband to respect her by learning Dothraki and showing a more dominant side, Sansa having her hopes and dreams crushed when her Prince Charming turned into a monster who tormented her with her dead family and had his knights beat her, then marrying another monster who raped her every night and made her a prisoner in her own home.

From what all these women have been through, it truly is a inspiration to see how much they have risen up from the ashes of their despair. 

anonymous asked:

Do you have a favorite character? Do you have a favorite non-pov character?

Thanks for the question!

Favorite POV character: Sansa Stark. No contest. I love her characterization, her genre archetype, her chapters’ themes, her inner monologue and her fascinating journey throughout the books. 

I love her characterization and, hell, I even appreciate it in A Game of Thrones. Yes, she was a snob and a brat who wanted things to be nice, the knights to be chivalrous, the queens to be graceful and the princes to be sweet, but she’s eleven at that time and all that idealism and naivety only made Ned’s execution all the more heartbreaking, opening the trapdoor underneath Sansa and causing her to fall into that horrific reality of King’s Landing.

Also, it’s really nice to have a classic princess that still has substance. In fact, I think Sansa was my first of the archetype to be given a rich density of character. I know, by now, Sansa’s genre archetype is old hat and has been done time and time again, given a more deconstruction-conscious fantasy market, but Sansa still calls to an inherent part of me that I’ll get to later on below.

Her chapters’ themes? Internal resistance, idealism, abuse, survival, story-and-song thinking, lies, knighthood, femininity, navigating the rules of high society and patriarchy, empathy, romanticism, the eventual disillusionment from reality and kindness-under-pressure… they’re universal (and even relevant to this day) and I can always return to them whenever I reread a book.

Her internal monologue is super crucial to the heart of Sansa’s characterization because A Clash of Kings and A Storm of Swords constantly play in her head. Passages and pages can turn as her mind whirls and the gears in her mind start to work. Anyone who tells you that Sansa is just a passive pawn clearly doesn’t read hard enough because she’s making active resistance in her mind against the Lannisters and thinking over the political implications of letters sent to her, trying to figure out if they can be trusted and which one she can take up while being safe.

She has an amazing character arc that takes her from a naive, head-in-the-clouds girl to an abused political prisoner actively resisting her captors in her mind to a woman taking control of a castle’s household under the guise of being bastard-born, all while trying to hold onto her humanity and retain a measure of kindness when she’s exposed to more and more horrors in the upper class of society.

Also, I personally think she has one of the best supporting casts in the story, all of the characters in her story pertaining to and enriching her narrative going from Cersei, Loras, Jeyne, Margaery, Olenna, Tyrion, Dontos, Littlefinger, Lysa, Myranda, Mya and Sandor, all of them challenging, adding, compounding upon her worldview, complicating her ideals and turning into her a fascinating person who’s increasingly seeing the strings of political theater and is going to start utilizing them with purpose.

Lastly, her want for there to be true knights? Breaks my heart because I constantly struggle with my ideals like that too. There are good values worth standing up for, but not everyone’s going to live up to them… but that doesn’t make the effort itself worthless. If the world fails us, then we should endeavor to live up to those ideals ourselves. There are monsters, abusers and indifferent people in the world, but the best we can do is hope to outlive them, hope to do it while being better than them.

In short, I will always be here for “He was no true knight.” and “If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.”

Favorite non-POV character: Stannis Baratheon. Let’s see, grumpy, pragmatic, bitter, deadpan, grim, strict, yet fair, meritocratic-leaning with an inferiority complex towards his older brother who he thinks outdoes him everywhere that matters? GEEZ, STANNIS, I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE PRETTY MUCH ME IN ASOIAF. 

But yeah, I love Stannis’ characterization so much. It’s such a multi-faceted portrait ranging from his strength (meritocratic ideology, drive towards justice, willingness to commit to good kingship) to his weaknesses (pettiness, willingness to commit to past grudges, bitterness and tactless manner of speech) and it’s such a rush to see him when his weaknesses outweigh his strengths in A Clash of Kings to later have the pendulum turned around nearing the end of A Storm of Swords.

And his character archetype is actually what I’d consider some of GRRM’s most subversive genre work. On the surface, he looks the Evil Overlord, complete with living at a grim island full of gargoyles, housing pirates, sellswords and a mysterious sorceress. He looks like the Evil Uncle because he’s rebelling against his “nephew’s rightful crown.” But the truth is far more complex, Stannis himself actually being the Cape, the man who wants to right the wrongs of Westeros, who wants to deal justice against the Lannister’s incestuous reign, who only came upon Dragonstone because he was doing his duty to his older brother.

His chapters’ themes… oh boy, they hit at me. Justice, duty, wounded pride, bitterness, past grudges, mockery from empathy, choosing from lawful or good, meritocracy, good kingship, the choice between valuing the individual or the many and complicated relationships with religion and gods… Stannis just hurts to read.

It is legitimately fist-pumping to read his character arc because it’s a rush. From a bitter, resentful, petty lord sitting at a dreary rock to a man who’s lost one of his central battles as claimant and who is torn between careening further into the abyss or committing to rising above the loss to a savior protecting the realm in truth rather than in title to a truly fascinating and worthy king who’s learning from the past, willing to take advice from all wells of knowledge and take charge to fight against the “only enemy that matters.”

And I tend to love Stannis’ supporting cast. I know we all love Davos, but I even love Melisandre because she brings an interesting facet to the philosophical/theological dialogue between the Dragonstone trio. Davos and Melisandre are constantly in conflict, externalizing the duality raging in Stannis’ heart and how he wants to conduct himself as king. And Stannis’ court also helps, being a bunch of (mostly) unlikeable, fanatic, squabbling lords and knights… who nevertheless help protect the Wall, ordered by their king, from the Free Folk attacking it.

There’s a lot of Stannis I keep coming back to, to be honest. It’s just inspiring that, amid all the destruction, death, rot and chaos of Westeros… there’s one man who’ll stand steadfast and fight for Westeros’ best interests because he’s the man you want against the Others when they come to bring the night that never ends. My One True King.

In short, I’ll always be here for "Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!“ and "Then we will make new lords.”

Hope this satisfies!

Robb x Female Reader

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Imagine being betrothed to your life-long friend, Robb Stark, and having an awkward conversation about your future wedding night.

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\ Request from anonymous /

Hey, loveeee! Are your requests open? May I have a one shot/imagine with Robb? Maybe he and S/o being friends, like really good friends, but get awkward around each other after some alliance or being betrothed? And please, with happy alive Stark family?? Love your writhing! S2s2

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Keep reading

I saw a post recently that suggested that Ned/Cat in the books wasn’t as affectionate/as couple-y as they are in the show, and I just disagree so much, and have been thinking a lot lately about how ridiculously flowery some of the language is in the Ned/Cat scenes in the books. Like, we tread into straight up romance novel territory at times. 

“She could see the grief on his face, but even then he thought first of her.”

“Was this to be her punishment? Never to see his face again, nor to feel his arms around her?” 

“Ned kissed the tears from her eyes before they could fall.” (MY HEART)

“Catelyn lifted her face, and Ned kissed her. Her maimed fingers clutched against his back with a desperate strength, as if to hold him safe forever in the shelter of her arms.” 

“He wanted to drift off into a dreamless sleep in his own bed with his arms wrapped tight around his lady, Catelyn.” 

“The thought of Cat was as painful as a bed of nettles. He wondered where she was, what she was doing. He wondered if he would ever see her again.” 

And that’s not even getting into the ridiculously flowery romantic language that encompasses Catelyn’s grief: 

“I have lost my Ned, the rock my life was built on.” 

“Catelyn had not eaten today. Perhaps that had been unwise. SHe told herself that there had been no time, but the truth was that food had lost its savor in a world without Ned. When they took his head off, they killed me too.”

“Bones, Catelyn thought. This is not Ned, this is not the man I loved, the father of my children. His hands were clasped together over his chest, skeletal fingers curled about the hilt of some longsword, but they were not Ned’s hands, so strong and full of life. They had dressed the bones in Ned’s surcoat, the fine white velvet with the direwolf badge over the heart, but nothing remained of the warm flesh that had pillowed her head so many nights, the arms that had held her.“

“And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once i found the good sweet heart beneath Ned’s solemn face.” 

“It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb… Robb… please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting… The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. “Mad,” someone said, “she’s lost her wits,” and someone else said, “Make an end,” and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she’d done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, Ned loves my hair “

Like this fucking romantic ass couple whose relationship is revealed slowly and painfully, peeled like an onion so we can see layers upon layers upon layers, getting some of the straight up most romantic lines in the series, leave me here to die in my shippy glory. 

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       "Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb … Robb …                  please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting"

                                      “It was Robb she wept for”


      "I should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him.”

                                           "I loved my brother" 


                                        “I’ll be as strong as Robb”


    “He killed a guest beneath his roof. That’s something the gods can’t                                                                 forgive.”