#Septa Unella

[brian-in-finance]

Gif: Tenor

No cause for celebration

And so it began, on this day, a full year later, at 43 minutes past noon, British Summer Time…

Particular fans’ take on this anniversary is not one to celebrate, even if their observations were correct.

They’re not. SRH wasn’t there. Nor was his mother. Particular fans have been squeeing over her older brother… and completely missing the point of her comforting him. Twelve family members sat in those first two pews: four siblings in the first, three siblings in the second. Everyone but the child in those pews was named in the notice. The three sons-in-law sat in the second pew. The newest son-in-law held his infant son on his lap, within easy reach of the boy’s mother. No one wore a wig to disguise their identity. There is no speculation or interpretation or wishful thinking or “JMHO” here. There is only reality.

If particular fans want to celebrate, how about celebrating the actual couple’s fourth wedding anniversary? Or the second birthday of their son, also an August event?

One would think arbitrarily reassigning a child’s paternity was as low as particular fans could go. One would be wrong.

For the past year, particular fans have hijacked a deeply personal family event and made it their business. They watched a distorted live-streamed video, took screenshots, misidentified individuals, marked-up, resized, posted, and reposted those images. Why? To salute their #GoldenReceipt.

In reality, they’ve been saluting a #PyriteReceipt. Fool’s gold.

Imagine strangers, watching the video and publicly posting screenshots of your loved one’s funeral, claiming a victory.

No boundaries. No respect. No class.

#ThereAreNoFuneralPics

Louder, for those in the back: There are no “funeral pics.” The distorted screenshots are not photos taken at the funeral.

But there is a candid photo — a clear outdoor shot — of five family members, published in two local newspapers the day after the funeral. Enter more misidentification, marking-up, posting and reposting.

The pictured minor child, whose hair, eyes, ear, feet, and clothing received excessive critical analysis, is apparently fake. Or is it the photo or the newspaper page itself that’s fake? As it is with most conspiracy theories, the devil’s in the details.

Imagine strangers, analysing a photo and publicly posting thoughtless comments about your child, claiming a publicity stunt.

No boundaries. No respect. No class.

And yet… particular fans managed to sink even lower. A month ago, 11 months after the funeral, an absolutely disgraceful post appeared on Tumblr, intended to compare three images of wedding anniversary surprises.

The first image is a screenshot of a wedding day photo posted on Instagram by an actress to celebrate her first wedding anniversary. The image includes a personal message to her husband, a professional athlete.

The second image is a screenshot of a wedding day photo posted on Instagram by an actress to celebrate her fourth wedding anniversary. The image includes a personal message to her husband, a world-renowned musician.

The third image is a pixelated screenshot, a particular fan took from a live-streamed video, of an actress and her brother at their father’s funeral.

Let that sink in.

💭 💭 💭 💭 💭

The date of the funeral coincided with with the actress’s wedding anniversary, but the image has nothing to do with that occasion. Nor did the actress post the image anywhere, much less include a personal message to her husband, a private citizen.

(If there was room for levity here, one might mention two weddings and a funeral. There isn’t.)

“Believe what you want” is not licence for slander. Or indecency. Or deliberate ignorance.

The actress in the third image deserves better. She is a human being with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams. She is not a doll or a character in a fan-concocted fairytale.

Imagine strangers, publicly disrespecting your marriage, mocking your spouse, and accusing you of lying and manipulating your way to career success. (Imagine their analysing your body shape and discussing pregnancies that never happened and children that never existed.)

No boundaries. No respect. No class.

Whilst make-believe is child’s play, appropriating a live-streamed funeral is not a game. Time beckons particular fans to brush out their pigtails, pack up Barbie, Ken, and the Dreamhouse, and grow TF up.

Remember… there’s going too far. Then there’s going where you never should have been.

#ThereAreNoFuneralPics

[westeroswisdom]

Hannah Waddingham (Septa Unella) reacted to a certain scene in HotD S02E03.

[knowthatiloveyou]

Happy Birthday Hannah Waddingham

July 28, 1974

[freyaswolf]

[wadderz]

Hannah being a joyous goofball with her friends.

Source: scottyandpatsonthegram

[im-adrienne]

I don’t understand why people say that Septa Unella was ugly. She was hot. Just say you don’t like powerful women and go.

[thebookwormlife]

In This House We Stan #55

Hannah Waddingham

[fanficfanattic]

What I saw on youtube:

Where there was a link to the story.

That inspired me to seek out the Colbert clip.

Which convinced me not to seek out a clip of the scene.

Since I’ve never actually watched the show.

[fuckyeahhannahwaddingham]

HEY

Guess who remembered her password 🤓

Haven’t been on here in 2 WEEKS!

Shame.

[shining-m00nlight]

Turing on my TV and seeing Septa Unella moderating the ESC was not something I was expecting

[glennethph]

Look at her, so fucking gorgeous. No wonder I didn’t realize she was Septa Unella.

[westeroswisdom]

Anybody who knows better but doesn't vote is a good candidate for the Walk of Shame.

Feel free to use less drastic methods to get vote slackers to vote.

[duchess-of-oldtown]

House of the Dragon, Season 2, Episode 3 thoughts

Just clarifying, these are my own thoughts, you don't like them, don't bother telling me so. Also, I'm not a book purist, I like adaptions taking putting their own spin on things - if it makes sense to do so. So, here were my thoughts. Obvs, this post is dark and full of spoilers.

I like the Bracken-Blackwood thing. I like the injection of a little bit of history but also like pettiness.

Jace, get out of your mother's ear. Can you even tell which one is Arryk or Erryk?

Rhaenys giving us slay as usual. Eve Best really gets the greatest lines.

I really like Criston Cole's squire. I don't know, he reminds me of Pod.

Criston pulling that managers face right there. We've all been on both sides of that.

Ironrod, they could never make me hate you. Master of Shade

Tyland stop bullying the Grand Master.

Harrenhal is giving all these guys a hard on. It's not even that nice a castle (before yall come for me, I know it's importance)

Aemond teasing Aegon at the Council, that younger sibling grin

Mysaria's gown looks so comfy. Her scenes are alright, better than before

Rhaenyra vs Mysaria has to get away from the whole Daemon thing. That vibe is still there and it gives me two exes sniping at one another.

I get Rhaena's annoyance but it's also an opportunity.

The Harrenhal scenes were perfect. The ambience, the setting it's all *chef kiss*.

I hate the whole Prince Consort vs King thing. For one, it's completely against etiquette and the rules but also in the book, Daemon never needed to be King, he was supporting his Queen.

There's Alys.

Daemon "I'm claiming harrenhal". Yes, girl we see

Simon I give you this castle, also dinner is on the table, it's not great but it's good" Strong, you were the best thing in this episide. " Also, this exchange feels written by George RR Martin.

Grover Tully is getting it tonight

Daemon defending an ill lord paramount's abilities, he's thinking of Viserys

Gwayne Hightower, you're giving me Harry Hardying had a baby with Alfie Allen vibes

Cole's hair... I don't know how to feel.

Alicole doing the whole courtly love shit, as if Cole wasn't on his knees that morning. She pegs him, Your Honour

I need whiter Kingsguard Cloaks.

If they fucking mansplain, ridicule or correct Rhaenyra one more time, I fucking Harrenhal them. Who the fuck are these men?

Rhaenys, eating as usual, mic drop

Rhaenys and Corlys, I know they're setting us up for what happens, but *mournful screaming*. She's standing on a little crate 😭 Corlys beefing with baby Joffrey. Corlys grabbing his lady's hips while talking about heirs is my new roman empire

Let me see Stormcloud and Tyraxes

I wanted a little more conflict with Baela and Rhaena. But Baela assuring her is top tier.

Joffrey with his mummy 😭😭😭 Jace too. It's the last time Rhaenyra will see Viserys.

Helaena's speech, I think I know what's about to happen there. The families of the rat catchers + that riot. Also Helaena isn't forgiving Alicent for Cole, she's forgiving her for the war

Aegon looks so lil in his armour.

DID THEY SAY THE ARMOUR WAS VALYRIAN STEEL? MOTHERFUCKERS

Kingslanders partying as only Kingslanders can

Ulf the White's scenes are good but Baelon the Brave? You want me to believe that Baelon the Brave cheated on Alyssa?

I did not need to see Aemond's dick. Aemond you should be out committing atrocities not getting it wet

FUCK HIM UP MOONDANCER, FUCK HIM UP

Also Baela the trees are flammable.

Daemon take Dark Sister out of there it's too damp for her

YOUNG RHAENYRA - this is how guest stars should appear, with no warning and with the actors swearing they aren't ever coming back.

Also, Alys is American?

Rhaenyra slaying in her Septa Unella cos play. I wonder whether that's the same wimple

I loved the Rhaenyra and Alicent exchange but it was still such a dumb idea. This exchange is heartbreaking, there are parts that feel sitcomy and I love it.

Rhaenyra's lil face when she thought Viserys changed his mind

Alicent's lil... "oh Aegon the Conqueror... '

Over all 9/10

[valiantstarlights]

in memory of the url

you will be remembered dearly 😔

i miss when bots had urls like "jenny0047194" or "s8znmia802ng". i just blocked one with the url "evilpond" and i think it is really fucked up that they are able to take these wonderful urls away from all of the real people who might want them

[damelucyjo]

Another little masterlist update!

Today's update include the following;

Game Of Thrones Panel @ MCM London Comic Con BUZZ Stage (Thanks @kjmulti)

Johnnie Walker and Hannah Waddingham Team Up to Rally the Nation to Watch Women’s Sports

'Ted Lasso' Creators on Working Behind the Scenes With Jason Sudeikis | Closer Look

‘Ted Lasso’: ‘THR Presents’ Q&A With Hannah Waddingham and Juno Temple

GAME OF THRONES Septa Unella Interview - Hannah Waddingham

Can our TV stars guess the best shows of 2021 from emojis only? | BAFTA

Tom Hiddleston, Hannah Waddingham, Lorraine Kelly and more settle the ultimate TV debate

Bimini Bon Boulash, Tom Hiddleston, Lorraine and more tell us about their TV highlights of 2021

Tom Hiddleston, Jodie Whittaker, Lolly Adefope and more reveal what TV show brings them joy | BAFTA

Game of Thrones: How Hannah Waddingham Perfected “Shame”

Hannah Einbinder, Sheryl Lee Ralph, Hannah Waddingham, Sarah Niles and Juno Temple share acting tips

Ted Lasso star Hannah Waddingham on her role of a lifetime

1967 - Hannah Waddingham

Just One Lifetime - Hannah Waddingham & Various

Hannah Waddingham in Richard Beadle's Today Is My Day @ Delfont Room (singing 1967)

Time To Walk - Hannah Waddingham - Apple Fitness +

Everything should work, but as always feel free to message me if something is broken, or you have something to add to the list!

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Cersei II (Chapter 65)

Cersei paced her cell, restless as the caged lions that had lived in the bowels of Casterly Rock when she was a girl, a legacy of her grandfather's time. She and Jaime used to dare each other to climb into their cage, and once she worked up enough courage to slip her hand between two bars and touch one of the great tawny beasts. She was always bolder than her brother. The lion had turned his head to stare at her with huge golden eyes. Then he licked her fingers. His tongue was as rough as a rasp, but even so she would not pull her hand back, not until Jaime took her by the shoulders and yanked her away from the cage.

"Your turn," she told him afterward. "Pull his mane, I dare you." He never did. I should have had the sword, not him.

Coward. Lost his hand anyway, should have just pet the lion.

Bowels!

+.+.+

"No harm will come to me today," Cersei said when the day's first light brushed her window. "Only my pride will suffer." The words rang hollow in her ears. Jaime may yet come. She pictured him riding through the morning mists, his golden armor bright in the light of the rising sun. Jaime, if you ever loved me …

The fearsome Cersei Lannister continues to wait for her knight to come rescue her.

Maybe we're all looking for a saviour.

+.+.+

Septa Unella beckoned to the novices. They brought lye soap, a basin of warm water, a pair of shears, and a long straightrazor. The sight of the steel sent a shiver through her. They mean to shave me. A little more humiliation, a raisin for my porridge. She would not give them the pleasure of hearing her beg. I am Cersei of House Lannister, a lion of the Rock, the rightful queen of these Seven Kingdoms, trueborn daughter of Tywin Lannister. And hair grows back. "Get on with it," she said.

[...]

Cersei hoped that would be the end of it, but no. "Remove your shift, Your Grace," Septa Unella commanded.

"Here?" the queen asked. "Why?"

"You must be shorn."

Shorn, she thought, like a sheep. She yanked the shift over her head and tossed it to the floor. "Do what you will."

Love when Daenerys and Cersei lose their hair at the exact same time.

I am Cersei of House Lannister, a lion of the Rock, the rightful queen of these Seven Kingdoms, trueborn daughter of Tywin Lannister. And hair grows back.

I know she eventually breaks, but this is still a mighty impressive showing from her.

+.+.+

When the silent sister crept between her legs with the razor, Cersei found herself remembering all the times that Jaime had knelt where she was kneeling now, planting kisses on the inside of her thighs, making her wet. His kisses were always warm. The razor was ice-cold.

Kind of love Arya finding blades warm while Cersei and Daenerys always describe them as being ice-cold.

Still as stone, she thought. She sat unmoving. The cut was quick, the blade sharp. By rights the metal should have been cold against her flesh, but it felt warm instead. - The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

+.+.+

"Does Your Grace find this amusing?" said Septa Scolera.

"No, septa," said Cersei. But one day I will have your tongue ripped out with hot pincers, and that will be hilarious.

Believe her.

+.+.+

"Will I be permitted a pair of sandals?" she asked. "The streets are filthy."

"Not so filthy as your sins," said Septa Moelle. "His High Holiness has commanded that you present yourself as the gods made you. Did you have sandals on your feet when you came forth from your lady mother's womb?"

"No, septa," the queen was forced to say.

No, but Jaime was with her.

+.+.+

A bell began to toll. 

Lol.

+.+.+

She had come to Baelor's Sept a queen, riding in a litter. She was leaving bald and barefoot. 

🌺 symbolism 🌺

+.+.+

Their [Warrior's Sons] captain knelt before her. "Perhaps Your Grace will recall me. I am Ser Theodan the True, and His High Holiness has given me command of your escort. My brothers and I will see you safely through the city."

Cersei's gaze swept across the faces of the men behind him. And there he was: Lancel, her cousin, Ser Kevan's son, who had once professed to love her, before he decided that he loved the gods more. My blood and my betrayer. She would not forget him.

Believe her.

+.+.+

The morning air was thick with the old familiar stinks of King's Landing. She breathed in the scents of sour wine, bread baking, rotting fish and nightsoil, smoke and sweat and horse piss. No flower had ever smelled so sweet. 

I know a foul flower that's even sweeter.

+.+.+

It came to her suddenly that she had stood in this very spot before, on the day Lord Eddard Stark had lost his head. That was not supposed to happen. Joff was supposed to spare his life and send him to the Wall. Stark's eldest son would have followed him as Lord of Winterfell, but Sansa would have stayed at court, a hostage. Varys and Littlefinger had worked out the terms, and Ned Stark had swallowed his precious honor and confessed his treason to save his daughter's empty little head. I would have made Sansa a good marriage. A Lannister marriage. Not Joff, of course, but Lancel might have suited, or one of his younger brothers. Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. If Joff had only done as he was told, Winterfell would never have gone to war, and Father would have dealt with Robert's brothers.

There's the author casually telling the reader what Littlefinger's real plan is, but nobody in the fandom seems to care.

Can we talk about the fact that Littlefinger offered to wed Sansa when Catelyn was still alive? Imagine it happened, imagine Catelyn survived the Red Wedding like she was supposed to.

Anyway, not a whole lot of personal reflection happening in this chapter. It almost feels like this whole effort is futile.

+.+.+

Cersei had been a year old when her grandfather died. The first thing her father had done on his ascension was to expel his own father's grasping, lowborn mistress from Casterly Rock. The silks and velvets Lord Tytos had lavished on her and the jewelry she had taken for herself had been stripped from her, and she had been sent forth naked to walk through the streets of Lannisport, so the west could see her for what she was.

Though she had been too young to witness the spectacle herself, Cersei had heard the stories growing up from the mouths of washerwomen and guardsmen who had been there. They spoke of how the woman had wept and begged, of the desperate way she clung to her garments when she was commanded to disrobe, of her futile efforts to cover her breasts and her sex with her hands as she hobbled barefoot and naked through the streets to exile. "Vain and proud she was, before," she remembered one guard saying, "so haughty you'd think she'd forgot she come from dirt. Once we got her clothes off her, though, she was just another whore."

If Ser Kevan and the High Sparrow thought that it would be the same with her, they were very much mistaken. Lord Tywin's blood was in her. I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them.

The queen shrugged off her robe.

We have no choice but to stan.

+.+.+

They were looking at her, all the hungry eyes. But what were they seeing? I am beautiful, she reminded himself. How many times had Jaime told her that? Even Robert had given her that much, when he came to her bed in his cups to pay her drunken homage with his cock.

I see cracks in the foundation.

+.+.+

"Whore!" someone cried out. A woman's voice. Women were always the cruelest where other women were concerned.

lmfao

+.+.+

He [Kevan Lannister] wanted this. Him and the High Sparrow. And the little rose as well, I do not doubt. I have sinned and must atone, must parade my shame before the eyes of every beggar in the city. They think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong.

Let's be real, Kevan's lucky somebody else killed him before Cersei could.

+.+.+

Their path took them past the statue of Baelor the Blessed, standing tall and serene upon his plinth, his face a study in benevolence. To look at him, you would never guess what a fool he'd been. The Targaryen dynasty had produced kings both bad and good, but none as beloved as Baelor, that pious gentle septon-king who loved the smallfolk and the gods in equal parts, yet imprisoned his own sisters. It was a wonder that his statue did not crumble at the sight of her bare breasts. Tyrion used to say that King Baelor was terrified of his own cock. Once, she recalled, he had expelled all the whores from King's Landing. He prayed for them as they were driven from the city gates, the histories said, but would not look at them.

Will always include Targaryen criticism.

I'll admit, I don't know why the story constantly references Baelor the Blessed. If there's an obvious parallel, I'm clearly missing it.

+.+.+

"Harlot," a voice screamed. Another woman. Something flew out of the crowd. Some rotted vegetable. Brown and oozing, it sailed above her head to splash at the foot of one of the Poor Fellows. I am not afraid. I am a lioness. She walked on. 

+.+.+

"Hot pies," the baker's boy was crying. "Getcha hot pies here." Septa Scolera rang her bell, singing, "Shame, shame, shame upon the sinner, shame, shame."

+.+.+

A man just ahead was selling skewers of roast meat from a cart, and the procession halted as the Poor Fellows moved him out of the way. The meat looked suspiciously like rat to Cersei's eyes, but the smell of it filled the air, and half the men around them were gnawing away with sticks in hand by the time the street was clear enough for her to resume her trek. "Want some, Your Grace?" one man called out. He was a big, burly brute with pig eyes, a massive gut, and an unkempt black beard that reminded her of Robert. When she looked away in disgust, he flung the skewer at her. It struck her on the leg and tumbled to the street, and the half-cooked meat left a smear of grease and blood down her thigh.

Save some for Daenerys!

+.+.+

Then someone flung a dead cat over the Poor Fellows and Warrior's Sons alike. The carcass hit the cobbles so hard that it burst open, spattering her lower legs with entrails and maggots.

Cersei walked on. I am blind and deaf, and they are worms, she told herself. 

Should I be reading into these objects being thrown?

+.+.+

"All hail the royal teats!" Words are wind, Cersei thought. Words cannot harm me.

Rise above it, girl.

+.+.+

"Your Grace." The captain of her escort stepped up beside her. Cersei had forgotten his name. "You must continue. The crowd is growing unruly."

Lol.

+.+.+

Cersei could see the Red Keep again, shining crimson in the morning sun atop Aegon's High Hill. I must keep walking. She wrenched free of Ser Theodan's grasp. "You do not need to drag me, ser." She limped on, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the stones behind her.

She was walking down a long hall beneath high stone arches. She could not look behind her, must not look behind her. There was a door ahead of her, tiny with distance, but even from afar, she saw that it was painted red. She walked faster, and her bare feet left bloody footprints on the stone. - Daenerys IX, AGOT

Hahahaha.

+.+.+

"My wife has sweeter teats than those," a man shouted. A teamster cursed as the Poor Fellows ordered his wagon out of the way. "Shame, shame, shame on the sinner," chanted the septas. "Look at this one," a whore called from a brothel window, lifting her skirts to the men below, "it's not had half as many cocks up it as hers." Bells were ringing, ringing, ringing. "That can't be the queen," a boy said, "she's saggy as my mum." This is my penance, Cersei told herself. I have sinned most grievously, this is my atonement. It will be over soon, it will be behind me, then I can forget.

God this is brutal.

Up until this point they've been calling her cunt, whore, sinner, traitor, abomination, and brotherfucker among other things.

When they shift focus to her body she starts to lose it.

+.+.+

The queen began to see familiar faces. A bald man with bushy side-whiskers frowned down from a window with her father's frown, and for an instant looked so much like Lord Tywin that she stumbled. A young girl sat beneath a fountain, drenched in spray, and stared at her with Melara Hetherspoon's accusing eyes. She saw Ned Stark, and beside him little Sansa with her auburn hair and a shaggy grey dog that might have been her wolf. Every child squirming through the crowd became her brother Tyrion, jeering at her as he had jeered when Joffrey died. And there was Joff as well, her son, her firstborn, her beautiful bright boy with his golden curls and his sweet smile, he had such lovely lips, he …

That was when she fell the second time.

Everyone's come to judge!

Missing: a bard dressed in blue, the High Septon, Robert's bastards, House Stokeworth, Senelle, Alayaya, 38 men with dwarfism, etc. etc. etc.

+.+.+

Words are wind, she thought, words cannot hurt me. I am beautiful, the most beautiful woman in all Westeros, Jaime says so, Jaime would never lie to me. Even Robert, Robert never loved me, but he saw that I was beautiful, he wanted me.

The house is toppling over.

Since her introduction as a point of view character the text has continued to spotlight Cersei's declining looks and body,

To Jocelyn she said, "Tighter. Cinch it tighter, you simpering little fool." - Cersei III, AFFC

plus her age.

"Westeros has two queens now, and the young one is as beautiful as the old one," boomed Lyle Crakehall, an oaf of a knight who oft reminded Cersei of her late and unlamented husband. - Cersei III, AFFC

This is Jaime losing his sword hand, or Tyrion (potentially) losing his tongue.

+.+.+

She did not feel beautiful, though. She felt old, used, filthy, ugly. There were stretch marks on her belly from the children she had borne, and her breasts were not as firm as they had been when she was younger. Without a gown to hold them up, they sagged against her chest. I should not have done this. I was their queen, but now they've seen, they've seen, they've seen. I should never have let them see. Gowned and crowned, she was a queen. Naked, bloody, limping, she was only a woman, not so very different from their wives, more like their mothers than their pretty little maiden daughters. What have I done?

There was something in her eyes, stinging, blurring her sight. She could not cry, she would not cry, the worms must never see her weep. 

Not as beautiful of a queen as your younger self, eh?

+.+.+

And suddenly the hag was there, standing in the crowd with her pendulous teats and her warty greenish skin, leering with the rest, with malice shining from her crusty yellow eyes. "Queen you shall be," she hissed, "until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold most dear."

And then there was no stopping the tears. They burned down the queen's cheeks like acid. Cersei gave a sharp cry, covered her nipples with one arm, slid her other hand down to hide her slit, and began to run, shoving her way past the line of Poor Fellows, crouching as she scrambled crab-legged up the hill. Partway up she stumbled and fell, rose, then fell again ten yards farther on. The next thing she knew she was crawling, scrambling uphill on all fours like a dog as the good folks of King's Landing made way for her, laughing and jeering and applauding her.

Oof.

Of course the prophecy immediately follows Cersei reflecting on how old and ugly she feels compared to her younger self.

+.+.+

"My son," she cried. "Where is my son? Where is Tommen?"

"Not here. No son should have to bear witness to his mother's shame." Ser Kevan's voice was harsh. "Cover her up."

Then Jocelyn was bending over her, wrapping her in a soft clean blanket of green wool to cover her nakedness. A shadow fell across them both, blotting out the sun. The queen felt cold steel slide beneath her, a pair of great armored arms lifting her off the ground, lifting her up into the air as easily as she had lifted Joffrey when he was still a babe. A giant, thought Cersei, dizzy, as he carried her with great strides toward the gatehouse. She had heard that giants could still be found in the godless wild beyond the Wall. That is just a tale. Am I dreaming?

No. Her savior was real. Eight feet tall or maybe taller, with legs as thick around as trees, he had a chest worthy of a plow horse and shoulders that would not disgrace an ox. His armor was plate steel, enameled white and bright as a maiden's hopes, and worn over gilded mail. A greathelm hid his face. From its crest streamed seven silken plumes in the rainbow colors of the Faith. A pair of golden seven-pointed stars clasped his billowing cloak at the shoulders.

A white cloak.

He's getting the dragon treatment!

Hard to give her a destructive animal, this will have to do. Mother of giants.

+.+.+

"Your Grace," he said, "it is so good to have you back. May I have the honor of presenting our newest member of the Kingsguard? This is Ser Robert Strong."

"Ser Robert," Cersei whispered, as they entered the gates.

"If it please Your Grace, Ser Robert has taken a holy vow of silence," Qyburn said. "He has sworn that he will not speak until all of His Grace's enemies are dead and evil has been driven from the realm."

Yes, thought Cersei Lannister. Oh, yes.

Finally a knight worthy of Cersei of House Lannister.

Qyburn naming him Robert is so funny.

Final thoughts:

GOODBYE MOTHER.

I hope to see you again someday. 😥

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