This Game of Thrones Quiz is very insightful.
Sansa is throughout the season is shown cutting whatever Jon does and she even tries to undermine him at every step.
1. During talk with Davos she says that she is a stark.
2. Demanding other house allegiances by force and not having any answer to their any ques...(looked to me like a spoilt brat girl using her family name for everything)
3.Not telling Jon about the army of Vale and letting so many i mean so many people be slaughtered ( she could have easily stopped it)
4. Undermining Jon later in front of other lords and whe asked what to do ..She says she doesn't know!! So!!
I have observed that she just wants to prove how "good" and "honorable" she is despite her entirefame and name being that she is daughter of Ned Stark.
She literally has no experience, has bad role models like Cesei , always tries to overpower people and in the ends gets herself insulted.
She seems to be a kind of person who wants to be right at other people's expense , whose only advamtage is she has a name...literally every character has some quality but all sansa has is her big mouth!!
What do u think why does she behave's this way?
Is such a 'ruler' even fit to hold control of the huge north?
As Sansa and Jon are discussing about the next step (about what they will do, where they will go).
Jon reasserts that he is not going to war again as he is tired of fighting.
At this moment Sansa says that she will do it herself?!
What do you think she would have done or she was as always being overconfident about her position?
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 ??
Catelyn and Lysa were Tullys but after marriage, their surnames were changed to Stark and Arryn respectively. Then why didn't surnames of Cersei and Margaery changed to Baratheon and Elia's to Targaryen? I guess it's because all of three were Queens. But it raises one more question, why didn't Sansa's surname changed to Lannister and Bolton after her marriage she wasn't a queen? What do you all think?
Why did Sansa tell Tyrion about the true parentage of Jon Snow breaking her promise? She's not a child that she can't keep the secrets. And why did she tell this to Tyrion only? Your views...
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.
197 Votes in Poll