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Go on ANON and tell me what you think of me. I do not want to know who it is, at all. Don’t tell me who it is, don’t give me hints, don’t say your screen name. Tell me exactly what you think of me. Don’t sugarcoat things. Don’t lie. If you hate me, tell me why. Tell me what I’m doing wrong. If you like me, tell me why. Tell me exactly what you think of me.

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Send me a ■ and the muse will say aloud the first thing they think internally about your character.

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nice children u have there. especially that blonde haired prick. OWAIT, they are ALL blonde haired pricks.

You’re just jealous cause no bitches love you. Not even Renly. #StannisSucks

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The stoic demeanor, iron by nature, turns hostile in his face. A sudden change, the angle of his mouth lining to the early stages of a sneer.

                 ❝—— I am no Lord. By every law in Westeros I am King.                             Your House is none the wiser since Robert's Rebellion;                    you sided with the Mad King, now you side with a bastard of incest.                                     I'll not pardon your lot as Robert did." ❞

"… Hmm." She eyed the man as if she were looking upon an animal on all fours. In her mind, he may as well be. The venom for him is strong, within every inch of her. Her tone does not betray this. "Is that how you rest, Lord Stannis?" Eyes searching, narrowing. "To say King Renly was met by his own end—is that it?” A small chuckle escapes her, “That would be easy for you, wouldn’t it? To harbor no guilt. Perhaps it is not only your enemies that cling to ignorance.”

How easy for you, she thinks. To blame your brother, when my own blames himself for the death. Every day, every hour. No matter what I say to ease him of the guilt… And yet you call yourself the rightful king.

You are no king to me.

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Game of Thrones Tumblr Awards: Best Non-POV Actor Nominee - Stephen Dillane as Stannis Baratheon

'It is law. Law, Davos. Not cruelty.'

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His was a smell of fading fire. A charcoal stench, remiss of the warmth so radiant beforehand. Extinguished, spent, useless. Blackwater was a page in the history book of Westeros, and he was not written as the victor. His folly, a belief that numbers certified victory, leading to defeat.

         Damnable fool.                 A larger army does not mean victory.           Five hundred men were all that was needed to hold Storm's End;                 I have led my army to the depths of the Seven Hells in my arrogance.

Where was the Red Woman now? Where was the Fire God she spoke of? The sound of his men burning, Davos - loyalest of them all, haunted his mind. It bounced from ear to ear, allowing him no rest, no measure of peace.

Fingers gripped the stone table. Digging inwards, crushing flesh with a great rage unseen. The Lannisters, the Tyrells, Renly -- they all laughed; they all mocked. He would make them burn.

Movement behind him caught his attention, a fragrance not of flowers, but of immortality; the Red Woman.

                  ❝—— Less than a third of my army remains.                             Those that did not die in the Wildfire have feld.                   Tell me - where is your god now? ❞

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Molten flame burns in his stone eyes.          A means of counteracting the chill upon his face.     For all the words, sneers and barbs he has received his life,          Her's cut the deepest -- an axe against stone.

       ❝——  I despise falsehood.              The type that men parade around Kings to gather goodwill.          I'll not have that from you. If you have words,              then speak them and be done with it.  ❞

{♚}—;;                           “Never, my King.” Perhaps she was; but it was not as though she was ever going to let him in on the fact least he turn his anger onto her- she knew what his rage was like, had seen it explode, sending debris onto all who stood near enough.                     “One such as though could never be mocked                                 as there is nothing to mock.”

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      Rumors.           Whispers.

A Stark bastard lived. Cousin to the fallen King in the North, they sneered under breaths. The North was, as any man would have assumed, a detatched part of Westeros; it's own war beyond the great Wall.

Two banners flew high in the Northern sun, cold and deceiving. A stag, crowned and borne amidst flame. Soldiers atop a cascade of hooves left the small village from which their illusive prey had left. A King was in the North, as it had once been when the Young Wolf still lived. But this King was legitimate, by every great decree in Westeros.

The small party of eight soldiers descended upon Morgana, a single traveller foolishly alone in a land overrun with warring Greyjoys, Boltons and Stark loyalists. They surrounded her, horses steadily coming to a halt. They did not draw their weapons, but the entire manouver was not enticing or welcoming; it imprisoned Morgana.

At the head a single rider dismounted. He was of charcoal hair, not yet wise grey for age. He was not yet even fifty. Upon his chest was the same insignia that adorned the banners above. The Lord of Light's Chosen, the Warrior of Light, the great King.

       ❝—— Are you the Stark bastard?                 I mean you no harm. Do not afflict me with lies in return. ❞

Take it Back

Morgana had been spending the past few nights at a Tavern by the Kingsroad, but it was time for her to get going. Knowing her, someone would recognize who she was and take advantage of it. A Stark Bastard, but a Stark nonetheless. She had hopes to make it to King’s Landing and hope that the King would allow her to be reunited with her cousin Sansa and return to the North to live quietly; a fool’s dream.

She paid the barkeep for her room and set herself back out to the road, but she would steer clear from it. The entire journey she had traveled off of the marked road in fear of those who would recognize her. Morgana had been reminded in her youth multiple times that it was not safe for a woman to travel alone, but she had no choice.

… she had no one left

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... reminds us constantly that the real issue lies in the North beyond the Wall. Stannis becomes one of the few characters fully to understand that, which is why in spite of everything he is a righteous man, and not just a version of Henry VII, Tiberius or Louis XI.

GRRM in an interview

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STANNIS IN THE NEW TRAILER THO. HE'S STILL GOT IT.

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oi remember that time i held storm's end then you gave it to renly? Haha, fuck u.

oi respect your elder brother you moody fucker

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Replies and such will come in the morning! Heading to sleep now.

offline;;

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wAT

why does this shit happen when i'm not around omfg

stannis, loras tried to choke me

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I never asked for this. No more than I asked to be king. We do not choose our destiny, but we must do our duty, no? Great or small, we must do our duty. What’s one bastard boy against a kingdom?

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-backflips into the sun from all the comments-

STOP BEING SO NICE.

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LOOK AT MAH FACE (and my puppy Zoey asdfghjkl)

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❝—— You speak of things I know nothing of.      My brother was killed by his own doing,      the day he wore my crown. ❞

        He hides the glimmering guilt in his eyes his utmost.          He knows not of what Davos saw that day, nor does he ever want to.

“Abomination. Interesting choice of word… Much like the abomination that killed my first husband? Your brother? Or is that another type of abomination altogether? I’m quite curious on your point of view of such a thing, Lord.”