Not the ones to blame
Not the ones to blame
theme by pevensied
1 day ago
397 notes

theghostofharrenhal:

13 asoiaf challenge most powerful lines  


1 day ago
225 notes

1 day ago
208 notes

Game of Thrones Season One  “When you play the game of thrones you win or you die.”

Game of Thrones Season One 
“When you play the game of thrones you win or you die.”


2 days ago
1313 notes

2 days ago
821 notes

2 days ago
61 notes
amomentsindulgence:

“You are Arya of House Stark” 
______________________________________
| ASOIAF : (AU) Future Fancast |
feat. Rooney Mara as older Arya Stark

amomentsindulgence:

“You are Arya of House Stark” 

______________________________________

ASOIAF : (AU) Future Fancast |

feat. Rooney Mara as older Arya Stark


3 days ago
2424 notes

geeksngamers:

Game of Thrones: House wallpapers - by 7Narwen

Absolutely amazing, these would make an awesome t-shirt design too.


3 days ago
1486 notes
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

sansastark:

The Rains of Castamere - The National


3 days ago
1969 notes

The Regions of Westeros


4 days ago
729 notes

[THE RISE OF STARK]
They stood, staring, together for the first time in what felt like centuries. Sansa remembered very clearly the last time she had seen Bran, a thousand years ago. He had been sleeping still, his fall fresh, and she hadn’t had the heart to kiss him goodbye. She’d squeezed his hand and whispered her love, then escaped before Arya could see her cry. But he was different now, colder. He was not the curious, excited little brother he had been, but a dark man, with heavy eyes and bad habits. A dark heart.

Rickon was strange as ever, but there was wisdom in his eyes. He looked through Sansa, through the steel exterior and into her lionheart. It made her shiver; every secret she had ever had was plunged by his gaze, every depth was fathomed. She might as well have confessed every sin to him, the way he looked at her. He was strong, and wise and wild. 

And Arya? She kept hands tightly to her sides, her face a mask of indifference, so much so that Sansa could have sworn she was as likely to kill them as to kiss them. The woman who stood before her - my sister, Sansa reminded herself - had a countenance that was darker than Bran’s, who was more of a curmudgeon than a villain, and the same wild nature as Rickon, but it ran deeper. She spoke with the voice of one who knew her own mind; moved in such a way that every action seemed premeditated. There was something in her step, in her presence, that set Sansa’s teeth on edge. The only other time she remembered feeling similarly was when she was alone with the Hound: Fear, but more than that: affection. Arya was her sister, but if Sansa was a lionheart, Bran a darkheart and Rickon a wildheart, it seemed Arya had no heart at all. There was no love in her eyes, no mirth in her smile and no gentleness in her touch. She simply was and was nothing.