Mother And Son. The Shield Is A Bit Too Small For His Tastes But By The Gods Jon's Gonna Use It.

Mother and son. The shield is a bit too small for his tastes but by the gods Jon's gonna use it.

Featuring pointillism because I'm at work and do not have access to anything other than office supplies. Also I don't think I own art supplies?

A few notes:

• Jon's shield arm is giving Rob Liefield, I know. Nevermind the anatomy.

• All things considered, the lack of Ukrainian flower crowns in Lyanna fanart is absolutely criminal.

• Post-res!Jon adopts black, white and red as his colors for. Uh. Several reasons. He's making a exception here, though.

• If the wolf embroidery on Lyanna's sleeve looks a bit wonky... Well, it's because she did it herself. Sorry girl. I also Cannot draw roses for the life of me, apparently.

• Jon got Lyanna's nose and chin! Those emo eyes, though. He's lucky no one who knew Rhaegar paid attention to him. Also I'm a pretty hair Jon truther no cap.

asoiaf inaccurate as fuck for having like half of the POVs and supporting cast be teenagers and yet there’s not ONE description of someone jumping up and smacking the top of the doorway as they enter a room

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Self-recognition via your black-armored male relative (positive) vs. (negative)

In the godswood she found her broomstick sword where she had left it, and carried it to the heart tree. There she knelt. Red leaves rustled. Red eyes peered inside her. The eyes of the gods. "Tell me what to do, you gods," she prayed. For a long moment there was no sound but the wind and the water and the creak of leaf and limb. And then, far far off, beyond the godswood and the haunted towers and the immense stone walls of Harrenhal, from somewhere out in the world, came the long lonely howl of a wolf. Gooseprickles rose on Arya's skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father's voice. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," he said. "But there is no pack," she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. "I'm not even me now, I'm Nan." "You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you." "The wolf blood." Arya remembered now. "I'll be as strong as Robb. I said I would." She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth. - Arya X, ACoK

Arya is so rarely associated with faith and prayer in this fandom, yet when she prays to the Old Gods for guidance, they respond and restrengthen her sense of self. Arya of Winterfell! Daughter of the North! She is a direwolf and done with wooden teeth! ✨🤍🩶🐺✨