I haven't even read all of the books but Ima stay here cause Idc so don't bother tryna make me read b4 coming. :) I LOVE Daenerys, she's SO. DAMNED. PRETTY. Okie, that's all. Bye. :)))
89 Votes in Poll
So as everyone knows *spoilers*
Bran got the iron throne but but , sansa got the north! Arya got control of the see (somewhat) and Jon will eventually control the night's watch.
So we see that the starks have ULTIMATE CONTROL over the entire realm...I feel all of them are incompetent except off course Jon (not even a stark to begin with😂😂)
They would have never won the war ever without the dragons EVER!!..They just dont have any talent to lead and hold people together and now they have absolute power for which they never even had to work it seems.
Arya has become a girl devoid of feelings and frankly speaking is just too overpowerful which she cant be .
Bran's only claim to throne is his visions but a person working only on logic can never be a good king as one needs to have feelings as well.
Sansa is laughable to say the least and till the very end she seems to be the lost girl living in her fantasy land where she can threat anyone not thinking about anything.His brother will come running to save her!!
None of them ever fought a war but are very quick to judge anyone and everyone .PATHETIC STORY
The only stark having any real sense of battle, a story and motive is JON who isnt even a fu*** stark to begin with.
Dany and Jon are the only ones having any valuable claim and both were removed and the wheel broken and the incompetent starks came on top under which i dont think even a tree can grow let alone seven kingdoms!!
IN THE END THE TARGARYENS WERE MEANT TO RULE BUT D&D DESTROYED EVERTHING.
WHAT DO YOU THINK ??
So I only need to watch 1 episode and I’m done. I have a question. Does anybody ship arya and gendry. I felt really uncomfortable in that scene. Also ( these are my thoughts, please don’t hate) I liked the friendship between jaime and brienne more then their romantic relationship. Anybody else? And please don’t hate on me if you disagree. Thanks
Ice and Fire. The two elements meant to dance together in harmonious symphony... only to bastardize each other in a childish endgame. The gifted child and harbinger of the intended union, Jon Snow, Jon Sand, Jon Stark... Aegon Targaryen... whatever name is his proper mercy... is north of the fractured Wall, in the Lands of Always Winter; never heard from since his departure.
That was twenty years ago.
In the Kingdom of the North, Queen Sansa rules as the last Stark, as far as everyone is concerned. She is a solitary, virgin monarch, never to produce an heir. The Stark bloodline ends here.
West of Westeros, Arya is on her epic adventure, searching for land beyond what is known. But she, like Jon, hasn’t been heard from since her departure.
The Crownlands, having recovered from two long, strenuous wars of conquest and succession, flourish in the new Westeros. But King’s Landing itself is dark. Nobody has heard from it in ages, despite almost all major Houses sending ravens there. Ravens that have never returned.
This story starts in Winterfell, with Queen Sansa Stark writing a letter to Bran. It is as follows:
”My beloved brother, Bran the Broken, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, I humbly request your response. For twelve years now, The Realm has laid in yearning anticipation. Our family has already been spent. Jon and Arya are away, perhaps never to return, and neither of us are to produce an heir. With nobody hearing from you, I fear that history will laugh at our very name. Please... I beg of you, as no ruler ever should. Address my calling. Let me know you are alive and well. Sincerely, the Queen in the North.”
After the letter’s ink has dried, the Grand Maester fits it onto the foot of a raven, and sets it loose for King’s Landing.
The raven soars over the dark green grass of the North, through its crisp and cool air. Hours in, it is above the glistening blue waters of the Riverlands. Another couple hours, it dodges the foggy, rocky cliffs and peaks of the Vale. More hours pass before it is finally beneath the radiant sunlight of the Crownlands.
King’s Landing is within view of the noble corvid. But it isn’t the same. It is shrouded in a foreboding mist. The walls are still fallen, with only a few—unmanned—wooden ramparts filling in the gaps. As the raven gets closer, it sees groves of white-barked, red-leafed Weirwood Trees, strewn across the streets and buildings. But these trees are not right... they do not have faces, as their relatives do. They are less magnificent and more... eerie.
Not only are there groves of hundreds of Weirwoods, but there are also massive roots all across the city. They vary in size from six feet thick to thirty. All lead to the Red Keep... which couldn’t fit its name even better. From all openings; windows, doorways, gateways, patios and even crenellations, Weirwood branches that also vary in size—but reach to over seventy feet in thickness—protrude from the keep, with absolutely massive red leaves. One leaf from one of the bigger branches could cover ten houses of it could. However, it seemed that none had ever fallen.
At the peak of the Red Keep was the canopy, mostly shrouded by the mist. But with the raven’s view, it is clear to see that the unnaturally massive tree extended to one-hundred seventy-eight feet above the highest point of the Keep. With it filling virtually all openings, the raven seeks an alternate way in. In doing so, it roams the terraformed streets.
Surprisingly, there are still people in King’s Landing. But like the derelict city itself, the people appear....dormant... as if stuck in a perpetual drag in time’s slow current. They are like statues... until they turn their heads up, looking at the bird with milky white eyes, as blank and murky as their faces.
Fortunately for the raven, there is a crevice between the titan Wieirwood’s boughs leading to the Red Keep’s main entrance. It has to squeeze through, and it caws in pain and panic when it gets stuck for a second, but it is ultimately fine.
It flaps through the trunk-ridden halls, passing by other ravens. The first few are regular. But as the messenger raven goes further into the Keep, it passes by other ravens with grey eyes instead of black. Others with the same murky, milky eyes as the people outside.
Even further in, where the rest of the ravens all have those murky eyes, there are those with dark grey feathers. Further, the ravens have mild, normal grey feathers. Further than that, they have light grey feathers. And finally, in the final section, where the melted solid puddle of the former Iron Throne used to be, there is a crevice in the tree. In it, there are both branches and roots. The ravens around it are polar opposites of the messenger, and the rest of its kind.
These ravens are completely white. White feathers, white eyes, white scales on their feet, white talons, every feature is white. But it isn’t the beautiful shade of snow. This shade is dull and sickly, almost like ash. It is pale... like a corpse.
The messenger raven goes into the crevice. There, it finds the person it was looking for: Bran Stark, with four white ravens perched on his shoulders, their eyes closed. Like the Three-Eyed Raven before him, Bran is part of the Weirwood, its roots and branches tangled into his flesh. Two of them curve up from inside his eye sockets, twirling around his head to form a white wooden crown. It is no wonder Bran hasn’t read any of the letters sent to him. The branch going through his right eye and the root going through his left are each thicker than his eye sockets.
Even though Bran cannot see, he can still sense the newcomer, and he beckons the bird over by raising an arm. The raven, nervous, reluctantly perches on the Greenseer’s wrist. Slowly, Bran moves it up to his face. There is a bruise, shaped like a lightning bolt, on each of Bran’s temple. They are blue, like a star in the night. Though the raven was initially nervous, it begins to calm down.
Its faith is misplaced. With his other hand, Bran snatches the neck of the bird. It caws and flaps its wings in a panic, but is in no position to escape.
With the fingers from his perching hand, Bran presses on the eyebrows of the raven. It caws and flaps much less frequently, and much more weakly, as both cold and heat grip its mind and core. Its vision begins fading out, before the four white ravens—two on each of Bran’s shoulders—open their eyes. They are blue. Vibrant. Like sapphire night stars.
The messenger raven’s feathers coil with chills, and its vision goes icy blue and blurry, getting darker and darker. Then it fades out slowly, until there is nothing more than the embrace of the cold.
190 Votes in Poll
A raven arrived from King's Landing and a servant named Jorran handed it to Queen Sansa.
"It's from King's Landing, your grace." He said.
"Interesting, you may leave now."
"Yes your grace."
Sansa was Queen barely a year but still managed to grow North's economy thanks to loyal vassals like House Manderly, House Greenfinger, and House Wynch. Manderlys had money to rebuild northern castles and fund farming. House Greenfinger fed whole North with large crops due to long summer which would last many years. House Wynch's duty was to rebuild Dreadfort, give wildlings some land and arm them.
Sansa read the message happily and thought what Arya might have found from her journey. Perhaps gold or jewelry. She headed to the throne room where she met her Small Council.
"Good day, your grace." Hand of the Queen, Lord Wyman Manderly greeted.
"Likewise, my lord. How are your children and grandchildren?" Sansa asked.
"Thanks for asking, your grace. They are fine. My eldest son sent a raven and told me how trading between White Harbor and Essos is increased. They buy furs, ale, and arms. We get fruits, wine, and silks."
"Excellent. Lord Greenfinger, you are Master of Coin. Do we have enough money for the feast? My sister arrives here in two weeks. We also need to set a camp for soldiers. Maester Wolkan, send a raven to White Harbor, so they know whose ships are coming."
"I'll do it immediately, your grace," Wolkan said.
"We have a stable economy, your grace. Due to the long summer, there is enough food for everyone. There is no need to buy grain from the South."
"Good, let's keep it that way."
Sansa left to the dining hall where she ate breakfast and saw ser Hayard, Lord Commander of Queensguard. He was a tall, black-haired, seriously looking man in his mid-twenties. Hayard was actually from the Vale, but he rather pledged his sword to Sansa than Robin Arryn. He and a couple of thousands of soldiers decided to stay in the North to serve the Starks. Many of them had found a wife and fathered a child or two. Sansa also won their trust ordering the execution of Lord Baelish who schemed Jon Arryn's assassination.
"Your grace, as Lord Commander it's my duty to protect you from any danger. I propose Queensguard will stay closer than usual when Princess Arya arrives. Those are foreign soldiers, I don't trust them even if they are under your sister's command." He said.
"If my sister wanted to assassinate someone, half of our guards would be dead and you wouldn't have a head on your shoulders. Looks like we are fine." Sansa smiled.
"Of course, your grace. As you wish." He stated and left.
A week later Arya and her soldiers arrived ten miles away from Winterfell. Weather was warmer than usual and there was no need for fur. Over four thousand troops marched in a perfect row. Valyrians were every commander's dream: they marched in formation, took orders and were disciplined. Every armor was silver steel, but members of Queenguard had valyrian steel armors. Arya's army had heavy infantry with heavy cavalry who was capable to crush an army twice as large as themselves.
"I'll ride ahead by myself, I want to see my sister," Arya said and rode away.
When Arya reached her destination, she decided to leave her horse a half-mile away from the gates and disguise as a beggar.
"You girl! Turn around, we need no beggars here!" Guard said. "Please give me bread, I'm starving!" Arya acted. "Fuck off now girl or I'll punch you!" The other guard yelled. Arya stood silently for a while, when a guard tried to punch her, she smoothly dodged it and hit him right to the throat. When the guard was knocked out, Arya took Needle and challenged the other one. The foolish guard thought he could win this match, but no. It was over in ten seconds when Arya disarmed him. "Please, have mercy whoever you are." Guard cried. "I am Arya Stark and I have no time for this nonsense. Take me to your Queen, now." The poor guard almost shit on himself and could scarcely rise to lead Arya to Queen.
"My Queen, princess Arya would like to see you. Shall I let her in? Guard stated with dignity.
"Of course let her in."
"Your sword, and the knives, young princess" Hayard commanded.
"Come and get it." Arya smiled. "I won't give any single blade to you."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm Lord Commander of Queensguard and this is my duty."
"Go on, do your duty."
"It's alright, she is my sister and I already told you. Ser Hayard, let her through."
A knight stepped aside and murmured something.
"Long journey, I assume. Where is the rest of the host?"
"Splendid. Now excuse I have plenty of duties to do. Come to my room tonight, I must tell you something."