People follow leaders and they will never follow us. They find us repulsive. I find us repulsive. And we find them repulsive, which is why we surround ourselves with large, comfortable boxes to keep them away.

Former noble cuts off long hair and goes on the run disguised as a normal refugee.

Young royal tactical genius uses deception to gain power in a foreign land and takes over an entire city.

Least favorite child of a ruthless and powerful lord is unjustly punished. After years of abuse, he confronts his father then escapes the country.

A young woman is separated from her family and forced into engagement with an evil prince. She flees after a mysterious, poison-induced death.

Huge fight on a frozen wall where one side has magic-y shit.

The dragons were supposedly dead. They’re not. They’re really, REALLY not.

So am I talking about Game of Thrones or Avatar: The Last Airbender?


Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile.

kind of cant stop thinking about sansa in that tavern drinking ale. what would drunk sansa be like? flirty drunk? would she cry? would she tell the young bard in the corner to strike up a cord on his mandelin so she can stand up on the table and beatbox a rendition of the rains of castamere?

i need to know