The Ruby At Melisandres Throat Gleamed Red. It Is Not Those Foes Who Curse You To Your Face That You

The ruby at Melisandre’s throat gleamed red. “It is not those foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you.”

If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too.  In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

She should have died for Renly in his pavilion.  She should have died for Lady Catelyn at the Red Wedding.  She should have died for Jamie at the end of a noose.  Every time she survives there is a little less of her. 

photo credit: Valkry productions

The wedding night scene.  What bothers me about some of the threads, on reddit, etc, is not everyone thinks it is rape, or if it is it’s justified. I hate the argument that game of thrones is based off medieval times and women were always raped on their wedding nights in medieval times. My answer to that is No. Yes, strangers often often wed each and were expected to consummate the marriage. However, to say all grooms raped their brides is untrue, and paints all men as heartless. Any groom could try and show affection for his bride, he could be gentle and try to make things easier for her. Ramsey choose not to do those things, because he is a sick controlling individual. Also, just because Sansa did not scream out no, does not mean it was consensual.

I wish there were more examples of loving relationships on the the show in order to contrast this situation. The only one I can think of is Ned and Cat. Their marriage was arranged and it was consummated, but I am damn sure that Ned didn't rape Cat.

“Who in seven hells is this one?” “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Jaime returned with cold courtesy. “I might ask the same of you, my lady.” “Lady? I’m no lady. I’m the queen.” “My sister will be surprised to hear that.” “Lord Ryman crowned me his very self.” She gave a shake of her ample hips. “I’m the queen o’ whores.” No, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too.”

Roose Bolton’s (sort of) loving feelings about this wife Fat Walda