also into cats.
stark count as of adwd
- headless
- headless
- fire zombie
- tree
- cannibal
- assassin trainee
- being groomed by a pedophile
- ceasar’d
They called him the Young Wolf. He was born to be Lord of Winterfell but when the War of the Five Kings started he was one of them, crowned at fifteen after the battle of the Whispering Wood where he captured the Kingslayer. It’s said that when he raised to accept his crown, all men and their families knelt to swear feilty, and all the wolves in the Seven Kingdoms howled at once. He never lost a battle, and some say that he put a bit of himself in his Grey Wind every time he rode against another army, killing enemies with a sword and with his bare teeth both. But what the stories won’t tell you is that Robb Stark had his mother’s eyes, and he always had a place for bastards and broken things at his table. He was terrible at sums, but maps and houses came to him so naturally, as if he had been born to be a king and know every piece of land and the men who served him. Winterfell’s name was the one he cried in battle and he was every bit his father’s son, but family, duty and honor were part of him just as much as winter. He was a good king, kind and noble and just, and when he died the North died with him. But they raised once more and remembered. The Young Wolf is nothing more than a song now… and it’s the loudest one of them.
Shows up to the Red Wedding fifteen minutes late with Starbucks
GODDAMNIT I JUST WALKED INTO THAT FUCKING SPOILER FUCK
just to clarify, i wanted to know how old tyrion was and i clicked on a GOT wiki and it showed me that he marries sansa
that fucking sucks because he’s aged way the fuck up in the show anyway so it was all for naught.
Ramsay Makes A Friend - with Soundtrack < my pick for this beautiful OTP, click to enjoy.
from reddit, naturally
Snow was falling on the godswood too, melting when it touched the ground. Beneath the white-cloaked trees the earth had turned to mud. Tendrils of mist hung in the air like ghostly ribbons. Why did I come here? These are not my gods. This is not my place. The heart tree stood before him, a pale giant with a carved face and leaves like bloody hands.
A thin film of ice covered the surface of the pool beneath the weirwood. Theon sank to his knees beside it. “Please,” he murmured through his broken teeth, “I never meant…” The words caught in his throat. “Save me,” he finally managed. “Give me…” What? Strength? Courage? Mercy? Snow fell around him, pale and silent, keeping its own counsel. The only sound was a faint soft sobbing. Jeyne, he thought. It is her, sobbing in her bridal bed. Who else could it be? Gods do not weep. Or do they?
The sound was too pitiful to endure. Theon grabbed hold of a branch and pulled himself back to his feet, knocked the snow off his legs, and limped back toward the lights.
↳ A Dance with Dragons / A Song of Ice and Fire
Stark Children: http://minus.com/mWTJWY2lZ/1f (SPOILER ALERT)
megandrapers: robb/jeyne, he makes it back from the red wedding
her husband did not return to her unscathed. No. In fact, she traced the jagged, angry line down his middle and knew that it ran even deeper than that. His heart was nothing but scar tissue now, nothing but barely functioning limbs, nothing but eyes that had watched the Freys slit his mother’s throat and had known what it was, at last, to be weak and immobile and impoverished.
Howland Reed was their only hope now, and it was such a fleeting, bleak thing that neither of them dare speak of it.
Robb Stark’s eyes fluttered, and he caught her wrist, fingers grinding her delicate bones down into each other. She didn’t dare let out her gasp of pain. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she was afraid. Not far away, Grey Wind stalked, nearly feral, and at last she understood what the northernmen had meant when they had said the Starks at the wolves.
“The north remembers,” he told her, and dragged her over him.
Jeyne panted a hot breath out against his collarbone. “But a woman never forgets.”
