robb**

vimeo

It is the most amazing video of the Game of thrones I’ve ever seen. The quality is the best, and I think it includes the common story, the characters, the scenery, the battles, the death… and yes, we live in a beautiful world.

10

Game of Thrones Rewatch - “The Climb” (3x06) 

“Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb. They refuse. They cling to the realm or the gods or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.” - Petyr Baelish

fallingintoshe  asked:

Hi. I was just wondering what would have happened if Rob's will regarding Jon being his heir had become common knowledge in the North. Would Rob's will overrule Jon's vows?

Well, Robb thought it would:

“Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.”
“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”

–ASOS, Catelyn V

But of course, Robb is dead, and no more capable of sending the Watch a hundred men than he is of convincing the all northern lords that his plan for his succession has more power than the one of the most ancient and established vows in Westeros.

Furthermore, as GRRM notes, “the key point is, only a king can legitimize a bastard”; and further notes that Robb was only a king to his followers, but not to the Lannisters or Stannis, which means that Jon’s legitimization would not be recognized by all of Westeros. And considering if the will is presented, it would be a post-mortem command, and thus Robb isn’t king anymore, its legality would be in question there as well.

But aside from all that… there’s the fact that Jon is dead (too). And the Night’s Watch vows say their watch “shall not end until [my] death.” So that’s another legal argument – do the vows continue to apply to a man who has returned from death, or did they end when his first life did? And like I said here, it’s very possible that the remaining Night’s Watchmen might not want a former Lord Commander (who broke his vows before hundreds of people right before he was assassinated, and then was resurrected by strange sorceries) around anymore. So they might be very happy to use the excuse of Robb’s will to get rid of Jon, if he hasn’t already left them for his own reasons.

So… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Who the heck knows. When the lords who witnessed Robb’s will show up, who knows what they’ll say about it, who knows what they’ll think of Jon (and his resurrection), who knows how the Night’s Watch will react, who knows how Jon will even react. (Especially if his death and resurrection causes personality changes, as it should.) All I can tell you for sure is that this plot complication is bound to show up just when it’ll cause the most trouble for the Stark renewal plotlines (Sansa and the knights of the Vale, Rickon and his Manderly support, whatever may happen with Bran, heaven knows with Arya).

And odds are this plot complication might double-down with the reveal that Jon is not actually Ned’s son… and whether Robb’s words referred to “my bastard brother Jon” or “my half-brother Jon”, they certainly didn’t refer to “my cousin Jon”, so that’s even more complications there. Not that a king can’t make his cousin his heir instead of his siblings, but if he didn’t intend to, and if there is a trueborn brother around (who he didn’t know was still alive), then support might not come so easy.

So… yeah. Anyone who tries to say that Robb’s will definitely means something will happen regarding Jon (or regarding the other Starks) is only guessing. Only GRRM knows for sure – the rest of us will just have to wait.

8

favourite character meme: [1/3 emotions] Happiness

Ser Rodrik tells me there is bad feeling between Robb and Prince Joffrey. That is not healthy. Bran can bridge that distance. He is a sweet boy, quick to laugh, easy to love. Let him grow up with the young princes, let him become their friend as Robert became mine. Our House will be the safer for it

The heavens are falling down

“I’m tired of feeling like I’m living by chance.”

——————————

She remembered once when she was just a little girl, and they had all sat at old Nan’s feet listening to stories. She was three, maybe four, and the last snowstorm of the winter was raging in the North. She remembers not being able to see through the windows, being told to stay inside at all times.

She remembers wearing thick cloaks and wools inside, and sleeping under furs piled so tall her Father told her a bear must have gone into hibernation on top of her while she slept.

Robb had wondered how anyone could manage through a storm like this outside the Walls of Winterfell, and Old Nan had told about the Wildlings. She spoke of savages living in tents and wearing furs, with no manners or laws.

Sansa had been shocked at that, with her courtesies being irreplaceable to her even then, and Nan had told her about the spearwives, women who fought in battles besides men, trained in axes and bows and spears.

She told about the Wildlings who climbed the Wall and ravaged the villages nearby, how they ruthlessly killed everyone and everything in their way, how they stole women and killed babies and burned the homes of the people they’d killed.

Before Sansa went to sleep that night, as Old Nan tucked her in, she had asked her if the Wildlings would ever come for them. “No, my sweet child,” she had said, “no Wildlings go as far South as Winterfell. They will not trouble you, my dear.” Sansa remembered Nan had tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear then. “Besides, little Lady, the Wildlings say that those born with red hair are kissed by fire. It means you are lucky.”

Sansa had simply nodded, and drifted off the second she closed her eyes.

And then everything had fallen apart.

She can see the scars her enemies have given her now, she can see their faces as they tortured her. She can see their dead faces too. What she cannot see is the danger that looms ahead, that hangs over her like a dark cloud and make what could be happy days a miserable anguish.

She should be terrified, but she is too tired to be, and that scares her even more. As she walks through empty halls and dark rooms she feels lonelier than she ever felt in King’s Landing or The Eyrie, now that she has things greater than her to fear. Her abusers had all been human, no matter how cruel; they had human desires, human reflexes, human ways to be. Human means that she can understand.

But not this time. She has no hope to understand the Others, what they want or why. All she knows is that they want her and the only person she has left dead.

A chill runs down her spine, and she clutches the stone of a corner, letting the cold seep into her palms and the rough edges dig into her skin. She is still in this world, no matter how many times she forgets it.

She sighs, and moves forwards, determined to finish what she has started. She feels more like she stumbles than walks down the halls towards Jon’s bedroom, where she knows he will wait for her.

People praise her, they tell her she is strong, even Jon who knows her best of all. None of them see how hollow she is, how the only thing that is keeping her alive is a man that can’t carry his burdens alone.

And luck.

The reminder makes her clench her jaw and take a sharp breath, because she is so tired of that thought that she cannot begin to comprehend how it still haunts her.

Ever since Joffrey killed her father at the steps of the Sept, she has lived at others’ mercy or feigned care. Never has she been in control of her own destiny, never has she had any say in what she is to do.

Not until Jon, but now she is living on lent time again, for there is no way she could possibly have any chance to influence this war.

It grinds her down until all she feels is miserable, how she is only living because she had luck on her side. Her family has suffered by the lack of it, dead every one of them except the one that was lucky enough to be resurrected.

Jon is in bed, as she knew he would be, and he doesn’t even stir when she climbs into the bed next to him.

He says nothing, does nothing, but she can hear his breaths becoming calmer, her very presence making him feel better. She sighs, wishing she could say the same. But not until she has lifted this weight off her chest.

She is lying straight in the bed, arms wrapped around herself, staring up at the ceiling. Jon notices. “Can’t sleep?” He murmurs, voice gruff. “No,” she answers, “I can’t.”

“Do you want to talk?” Jon asks, as he turns to face her, and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Yes.” He blinks at her, anticipating. “Then please do so.”

She turns towards him too, and takes one of his hands. She closes her eyes, and says softly, almost like a whisper: “I’m tired of living by chance.”

He squeezes her hand, and the warmth of it rushes through her arm and goes right to her head. She realises her hand is trembling, her mouth quivering. The simplicity of it all is making her feel odd; the only thing present is life and death, Jon and her, her body and his.

“I know,” he says, “I feel so too,” and Sansa thinks that no, he can’t possibly feel the same as her. She tries not to raise her voice, and fails miserably. “How? You’ve kept alive all by yourself. You made a life for yourself at the Wall, you where independent, you made decisions all on your own. You could fight for yourself, and what can I do? Sit and watch as you fight for me, waiting for my fate? I’m powerless, Jon, when it comes to the cut, I can’t fight and I can’t lead, and if this is the end of you, then it is the end of me too.”

His eyes are glassy and wide, searching her face for something she doesn’t know, and his hand flexes uncomfortably in hers. She doesn’t let it go. His face only turns sadder, his mouth quivering and eyes brimmed with tears until one falls down his nose.

She wipes it away, hates to see him so sad. It’s like her touch triggers something in him, and suddenly he’s sobbing, and he puts his arms around her and pulls her into him, putting their foreheads together.

She tries to soothe him, hushing and rubbing away his tears that fall in a steady stream, but it isn’t working. “No, don’t cry, it’s not your fault, I, I-I’m sorry, so sorry…” It all crumbles away to nothing, for she’s crying too, and it’s so sad, all of it, worse than she thought.

She can’t stand seeing Jon sad for something he can’t help. She frames his face with her hands and forces him to look at her. “No, Jon, listen, this isn’t your fault. You can’t change the world for me.” He’s finally calming down, and he’s tightening his arms around her, pulling her head under his chin.

“I just wish I could.” She can feel his heart slowing down when she says: “I know.”

Out of all the men in the world, Jon is the exception, the one who loves her as his equal. To all other men she is just a possible wife, a title, a castle and a womb, not an actual human being. To Jon she is first of all herself, Sansa, an independent person that has opinions of her own. And he loves her the more for it.

“You’re not the problem, Jon. It’s everyone else. Things will be better now. Here I have power over myself, not like it was in the South. Girls don’t play the great game, and I’m not a girl anymore, though I was until I met you. It was a different time, a different place, but all these horrors… They take me back to that helpless feeling again and I hate it so much.” The last of her tears slip down her cheeks, and Jon’s arms are holding her steady.

“I hate it too. But the war is not lost. There is still much we can do. There is still much to believe in. Do you believe, Sansa? That we can win this war?” She waits a second, feeling the answer is truer than she could have imagined. “I believe in you Jon.”

He kisses her forehead and sighs. She feels alone, like she’s in a blizzard and not seeing anything around her, neither enemies nor friends, but it does not feel so bad when Jon is holding her.

She wishes they could stay like this, holding each other, worries pushed away until the sun rises. It does not feel so bad, she thinks, when she has someone beside her against the world.

“Tell Robb that I’m going to command the Night’s Watch and keep him safe, so he might as well take up needlework with the girls and have Mikken melt down his sword for horseshoes.”

One of my favourite Robb and Jon moments tbh that’s not even really a Robb and Jon moment, but it gives us such a telling glimpse of the kind of relationship those two had. They were such goofs together.

anonymous asked:

Is it weird that I'm sad Michele Clapton is back as costume designer for season 7? She has amazing designs, but she always gives the new costumes to the same characters (the ones living the high life) while others spend years wearing the same outfit (Arya, Sandor, Jorah, even Robb and Cat). I feel like Ferry is better at just giving everyone clean clothes once in a while, even if that means she can't add as many details to her designs as Clapton does.

Is Clapton the one who gave Sansa the Needle necklace? If so, yeah I wish they’d have kept her gone.