Honestly Rhaegar Targaryen Is One Of My Favourite Characters. He's Like A Ghost Posessing The Text, Permeating

honestly rhaegar targaryen is one of my favourite characters. he's like a ghost posessing the text, permeating the narrative with meaning and magic and prophecy, a memory of music to make you weep, of iron in his voice and sadness in indigo eyes, grief and mist. he haunts the living, the blood of the dragon daenerys wants to be and the sire jon doesn't know he had, the fairytale and the tragedy, saviour and doom, born amid fire and blood, heir to a dying legacy. yet the rubies flew from his chest, the dragon his sigil was ressurrected on the great grass sea by the sister so like him, his son the fire that burns against the cold just as aegon the dragon foretold. the prince of dragonstone is in every corner of the page.

"Your sister," Iron Emmett said, "how old is …"

By now she'd be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. "I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you." Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment.

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! ✨🤍🩶🐺✨

The Tower of Joy: Terrific Digital Painting by Florian Biege

An after war reunion kiss

2.10 | 7.08

SUPERNATURAL -> 14x13 ❝ lebanon ❞