"How Did You Get Through The Wall?" Jojen Demanded As Sam Struggled To His Feet. "Does The Well Lead

“You don’t know anything about what I’m trying to do.” 

“No?” Danyel leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “Is that not what I’m helping you do at this gala of yours? Fighting at a diplomatic event, of all things. You and Tomix really were cut from the same cloth—always charging ahead, as if the only way to fix the past is to destroy your own selves in the process.”

Princess Elia Martell of Dorne for Martell Week

—this beautiful commission was done by @diosaurr

— David Foster Wallace, E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction

Hello there! You’re an amazing artist btw! Can you draw Naerys from the ASOIAF lore with newborn Daenerys of Dorne?

hi dear anonymous! thank you very much for your sweet words!

specially for you Queen Naerys Targaryen and her baby daughter Princess Daenerys Targaryen (of Dorne).

Brandon stark (the cooler Ned)

three-eyed raven

I wanted to make these portraits of Mercy ( Arya Stark) and Alayne Stone ( Sansa Stark) -which are inspired by Vermeer's " Girl with pearl earing" - because for a lot of time I thought that girl in the painting has something of Sansa Stark and by extension with Arya ..at least in my head😊 I don't know why 🤷‍♀️ 😊

Princess Shireen Baratheon

Lady Stoneheart and the Little Night Wolf

Inspired by @agentrouka-blog’s thoughts of Arya and Catelyn potentially reuniting in the books. <3

Art by @adelikashere for A Crown of False Spring. The best birthday gift ever.

It was… a girl-child. He’d not misjudged; even whilst standing she was a tiny slip of a thing. A strange thing. Her coltish frame was wrapped in a dove-grey gown, streaked with soil and trailing like mist about small bared feet. Dark chestnut hair tumbled loose and tangled past thin shoulders, framing windburnt cheeks flushed rosy with chill. Her eyes were sharp and wild, her teeth bared—and in her hands a tree branch, raised like a sword! Not a little doe then, thought Arthur. Then, a break in the clouds. A shaft of dying light broke through the clearing, striking the crown of the heart tree with sudden radiance. The deep scarlet leaves flared and shimmered like bloody embers. And there, half-lost amongst the high fronds, something swayed. A shield. Upon it, the painted face of a weirwood, grinning wide and red.