Maisie and Sophie through the last years

numituzineru:

…..i gave in to temptation

(again; see this post)

stark-queen:

Sophie Turner at the Game of Thrones Season 3 Seattle premiere (03.21.13)

ilvalentinos:

ladies who should be playing mythical head bitches in charge | SOPHIE TURNER as GUINEVERE, the queen of arthur, the godhead of lancelot, the white enchantress whose love brought down a kingdom.

She was given to him with the promise of a crown. “Some day you will sit on the throne of this broken land,” her father had promised her, before he bartered her like a cow. “And you will make it anew.” Ancient stories tell of an ancient queen, whose love burnt a city to the ground and spawned a legend; the nuns tell her that is wicked, that it was a woman’s lust that had brought about the downfall of every empire, had cast man from Eden. But I will be a queen, she thinks but does not say. I will be queen, and kings are not knights; kings do not fight and kings do not bleed. Should I not have a champion to bow at my feet, to kill and burn for the sake of mine honour? Should I not have a Paris, as every queen must? When she sees the man, when she sees his dark hair and his dark eyes at the tourney - she sits up.

All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

After I raise my armies, and kill your traitor brother, I’m going to give you his head as well.

Joffrey: I’ll tell you what. I’m going to give you a present. After I raise my armies, and kill your traitor brother, I’ll give you his head as well.
Sansa: Or maybe he’ll give me yours.

She’s a sweet thing now your grace, but in ten years who knows what treason she may hatch?

30 Hours of Game of Thrones: (4) character you think is misunderstood | Sansa

ndormers:

Last of all, Margaery brought her before the wizened white-haired doll of a woman at the head of the table. “I am honored to present my grandmother the Lady Olenna, widow to the late Luthor Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, whose memory is a comfort to us all.”

The old woman smelled of rosewater. Why, she’s just the littlest bit of a thing. There was nothing the least bit thorny about her. “Kiss me, child,” Lady Olenna said, tugging at Sansa’s wrist with a soft spotted hand. “It is so kind of you to sup with me and my foolish flock of hens.”

Dutifully, Sansa kissed the old woman on the cheek. “It is kind of you to have me, my lady.”