#character: arthur dayne

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

Age accurate Rebellion Lords:

Arthur Dayne; 23 years old at the time of his death in 283 AC*

Benjen Stark; 16 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC*

Brandon Stark; 20 years old at the time of his death in 282 AC

Eddard Stark; 20 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

Howland Reed; 18 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC*

Jaime Lannister; 17 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

Oberyn Martell; 26 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC*

Rhaegar Targaryen; 24 years old at the time of his death in 283 AC

Robert Baratheon; 21 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

Stannis Baratheon; 19 years old at the end of the Rebellion in 283 AC

*exact date of birth is uncertain

[thetormentita]

the bastard queen - chapter 1

the things we do for love.

Pairing: Original female! Targaryen/Arthur Dayne

A/n: au for Robert’s Rebellion. Enjoy!

Rating: Mature (+16)

The strangling tension can suffocate even the most strong-willed courtier. With the hint of charred corpses still lingering in the air, Arthur Dayne wonders if the king has changed his clothes since the last night, where he delighted himself with the pleading yells of two prisoners as wildfire devoured them and the rest of the people gathered in the Great Hall drowned in horror.

With the reliable Barristan Selmy guarding the meeting with him, his lilac eyes observe the men as they take their seats around the wooden table, only the naïve Qarlton Chelsted and the newly appointed Hand Owen Merryweather to not show grim faces. The tension is palpable, a heavy cloak of discomfort wrapping around each lord present. The king's recent actions have instigated fear and uncertainty, even among the most loyal men.

As matters follow one to another, almost the whole group of men trying to decide what is best for the realm, Arthur’s mind is partly elsewhere, honed by years of duty and vigilance. His gaze, under the guise of passive surveillance, catches every subtle shift and twitch among those gathered. All of them or too cautious or too coward to dare and defy the monster with the crown upon his brow.

“With your permission, Your Grace” lord Merryweather’s voice almost trembles with hesitation, fearful of the reaction of the king. “There is a pressing matter this council has to discuss” Aerys raises a pointy eyebrow towards him, and Arthur can spot the slight curl of the king's lip, an ominous prelude to his temper which could ignite over the most trivial of provocations. “Princess Valaena’s marriage.”

This mention of the Princess Valaena, the beloved jewel of the kingdom, causes a distinct shift in the atmosphere of the room. The council members exchange wary glances as the name of the only daughter of the monarches is put over the table. They all have witnessed during the years the mood swifts and the affronts of Aerys towards his own daughter, branding her as ‘bastard’, ‘dragonspawn’ or worse only because the colour of her hair is darker than the rest of her family, and they have developed various degrees of sympathy towards her. Arthur Dayne himself stiffens when Merryweather dares to speak her name, thinking of him as unfit to even think about his princess.

“We should wait” Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crowned Prince, also shows himself most uncomfortable in his chair with the idea of being separated from his beloved sister. “My lady wife is still recovering and she gladly keeps her company. It would not be wise to rush matters.”

The tension around the table is palpable. A quick glance from Rhaegar to both kingsguards looks more like a plea than he actually wants to.

“Nonsense!” the king screeches, the council apparently having passed over the menacing looks of the loon, with his nails more like claws pointing at his own son and heir and to his master of ships, who dares to agree with the prince. “That girl will be useful to the crown for once in her life.”

“Your majesty” lord Velaryon counterattacks, having properly made his work towards the eyes of the Mad King for quite a time, “with your permission, I would suggest the lady Valaena to get married to me. Houses Velaryon and Targaryen have had a shared history towards the centuries, and Driftmark would prove a safe refuge to our much beloved princess.”

Aerys, his gaze sharp as the blades his ancestors wielded, seems to consider consider Velaryon's proposal with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion. Leaving hopes for a response hanging in the air like a thick fog, he seems to find amusement in the pause, rejoicing himself as he crashes Lucerys Velaryon’s hopes with an acrid cackle.

“Do you think that I would allow my only daughter to be pushed to the margins of my realm, hidden away on Driftmark, while I sit the Iron Throne?” Aerys’s voice rises, filled with annoyance and madness, and it seems that the balls of every member of the council shake on their pedestals over the table “How dare you to even think of putting a hand on her!?”

It seems this time the protective father has taken the place of the abusive parent, and if it weren’t for the space between them both, with Aerys sat at the head of the table and the Lord of the Tides almost at the other side of it, the king would have easily thrown his wine cup to his face, or even worse.

“Your Grace” it is this time Lord Varys’ modulled voice to speak, and the whole bunch of men put their attention upon him, the Master of Whispers. The Spider. “I can think of a much more adequate suitor for the princess’ hand” his eyes dart towards Lucerys Velaryon, who just answers with a half lidded gaze behind his own cup. “Storm’s End.”

He was just a lad when the tragedy of Shipbreaker’s Bay took place, only a mere squire to prince Lewyn before he joined the Kingsguard himself. The death of the beloved Steffon Baratheon and his lady Cassana stroke the Red Keep, with queen Rhaella helplessly weeping for them in the Great Sept of Baelor and the Mad King descending upon madness more quickly even.

“Lord Steffon and lady Cassana died in a mission for the Crown, and the young stags would surely feel again protected by the Crown if their house would join house Targaryen again, like two generations ago with the arrival of princess Rhaelle.”

Both kingsguards exchange glances, almost like searching an explanation or even a support. If the only unsullied member of that wretched family was to be taken away, what could be awaiting around the corner?

“Storm’s End seems the most appropriate place, father” Rhaegar’s measured words leave Arthur and Barristan nonplussed. “Robert Baratheon is a force to be considered, and Valaena can be the most ideal way to make him bend the knee to the Crown’s wishes.” Both knights look at the prince, their expressions a mix of concern and understanding. They knew the politics of the realm as well as any, and the value of strategic marriages could not be underestimated, but Rhaegar giving up his sister, his only confident, the receiver of his hopes and praises, is something none of them can explain. “Besides, it is close to Kingslanding, with a safe passage through the Kingswood now that ser Arthur led the royal offensive and cleaned the road of thieves.”

As soon as the meeting meets its end, quickly Arthur and Barristan make their way towards Rhaegar, whose paces drive him to the Master of Whispers. Both knights carefully take their places behind them as the prince and the Spider talk about trivialities before the conversation takes a sharp turn into more pressing matters. The air around them thickens with tension as Rhaegar's tone becomes earnest, almost urgent.

“Do tell me there is a good reason for having placed that wretched idea on the table.” he grits, trying to look as calm and regal as always, the type of king Westeros deserves instead of Aerys.

“I seem to recall that you and I pursue the same interests, Your Highness. Our primary aim is to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm,” the Spider responds, his voice smooth and measured, a stark contrast to the prince’s fight to keep his composure.

Barristan Selmy swiftly opens a door, half hidden at mere sight and the three of them end up pushing Varys inside, quickly closing it behind, making sure nobody listens to their clandestine meeting. The room, lit by a single flickering candle, casts long shadows across the faces of the men, adding an air of mystery.

“You have to be kidding, Spider” the Stormlander spits, arms crossed over his chest, clearly disgusted.

“We share a common goal, despite our interests being different” the bald man observes each and every one of them and Arthur finds it hard to not gut that man in that room and let his heart drive his actions. “With the temperamental Robert Baratheon linked to the crown, maybe one day he witnesses one of the King’s fits and surprises us. I find it surprising that none of you have reached that thought…”

“How sure you are that he will risk everything for the princess?”

It is not a question, but almost a growl that escapes his lips. With his wrist resting carelessly over Dawn’s pommel, Arthur’s lilac eyes observe the eunuch’s face with attention, ready to defend Valaena’s honour if he musts.

“She is a complete delight” a cunning smile upon Varys’ thin lips repulses him. “There are lots of young lords who would gladly risk their titles, their lands, even their lives for a chance to stand beside her. All she has to do is charm him, and he will do whatever she wishes, no matter the cost. Power, in its most intoxicating form, wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”

Arthur’s grip on Dawn tightens with the mere thought of his princess used as a mere tool in the dangerous games of court. The idea of Valaena, with her vibrant laugh and kind heart, being manipulated by those who see her as nothing more than a pawn in their quests for power fills him with a cold, seething anger. Yet, amidst this storm of emotions, a steadfast resolve takes root within him. He knows the challenges that lay ahead are daunting, but the thought of Valaena facing these alone is something he cannot, and will not, entertain. The fire in his heart, fueled by his love and unwavering determination, ignites a clear path forward. He vows to himself to keep her away from any harm, to guard her as long as he breathes, to stand by her side against the shadows that seek to engulf her.

Only when Rhaegar dismisses the Master of Whispers he allows himself to show the true depth of his concern.

“What happened to the vision, Rhaegar?” his voice, bitter, reflects the turmoil swirling within him. “We were supposed to protect her, to ensure her safety above all else. Have we lost ourselves that badly in the webs of the spider that we are unable to see the light with our own eyes?”

The vision. How hard it had been to handle the burden of such a prophecy, one who sealed the fate of the young princess to a loveless marriage, to the hopes of bearing a saviour, the future of house Targaryen depending on her fragile shoulders… At least she has Elia by her side. For a short while.

[elcoffin]

got version of Arthur Dayne commissioned by lovely @aegonx 🤲❤️‍🔥

[wokedragon]

I feel like Rhaegar’s character would be waaay less hated if it weren’t for his fans. They see him as this perfect Targaryen male who did all he could to save the world and was gravely misunderstood by his time and everyone who thinks differently is wrong. When in reality he kind of sucks and had the biggest known flop in Planetos. Really, his actions directly distabilized the realm and caused the death and rape of Elia Martell, the death of their children, Lyanna’s and a lot of other people’s 😬. But that’s not very heroic is it? That’s why it had to be a great love story between him and Lyanna and Elia had to be in on all of it because if Rhaegar isn’t the perfect misunderstood hero then he’s just some crazy Targaryen blinded by his trauma and self like that caused thousands of deaths like the rest of them. I feel like the actual Rhaegar, you know the one that doesn’t sound like he was directly pulled from a YA authors debut novel, the one who has a complex relationship with his parents, with the crown, with himself….the one who can’t make a mistake, the one who cannot look back or else… is more interesting. Grey characters are in general more interesting and that’s probably why grrm writes a lot of them. He would be less hated if his fans held him accountable for all the awful things he has done and caused but oh well…

[velvetcastel]

Oc " Aleera Dayne"☆~~

She is quite cheerful but gets bored quickly, her mother is a Lannister and her father is a Dayne.

Aleraa is just a woman who likes cakes and gossip, a quiet life as much as possible in her home in Starfall and maybe practicing strange magic

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

god tywin lannister deserved worse

just remembering elias death and i wanna puke and the way tywin talks about elia and what happened is so damn gross

but rip tommen and myrcella we all know what’s about to happen in the next book :/

the cycle of violence just keeps spinning and damn you tywin for beginning it

(i got a bit crazy in the tags 💀)

[swordofthemorninq]

THE POVs

[toilandtroubled]

— 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐮

story collab with my babe @babyroblns

[threewaywithdelusion]

Currently spelling the name “Jamie” wrong 95% of the time because I’m trying to talk about both Jaime Lannister and Jamie Tartt and they don’t spell their names the same way.

[kolumnist-art]

Redraw 🧑🏻‍🎨 Lyanna Stark / Arthur Dayne + baby Jon Snow - 🐺💫🐲 Essos AU where they survived, living away from the mess of Westeros and raising a little rightful King Jon 👑 he is grumpy even as a baby 😅

[xxpeppermintxx109]

“a princess she was, but a girl all the same; and was it truly so terrible for a girl to simply be just a girl? why couldn’t she have a childhood like all the rest? why couldn’t she read stories and dream of knights and love whomever she wished? why couldn’t she be happy too?”

- rhaenyra, act ii, tdod

ser arthur dayne may have sworn his sword and life to his king, but it was the sweet princess he swore his heart to. some whispered not even the stranger themself could break such a promise. how cruel the gods can be.

always a melancholic prince, rhaegar seemed to create grief itself when none could find the silver princess. his sister. his twin. he loved her, and she swore she loved him. and yet, gone. dead, he thought she must be. and madness would follow.

appointed by the mad king himself, jaime lannister was her guard, if only to ensure she never left the red keep again. the last time any had seen the dragon princess and the young lion together, there was no love lost between them. what reason could the king ever have to worry? young jaime shadowed rhaenyra’s every step, but he was just a knight of the kingsguard, and she was just a lone princess.

[telvannibugmusk]

I love the asoiaf fandom obsession with powerscaling arguments it feels like we're playing with action figures

[thetormentita]

the bastard queen - chapter 2

the things we do for love.

Pairings: Original female! Targaryen x Arthur Dayne, Original female! Targaryen x Elia Martell

A/n: seven hells, we approach the inevitable! Val, control yourself you little cunt

Warnings: some angst, a touch of smut?, targcest.

Rating: Explicit (+18) (just in case)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen

Through the little holes of the carriage window she can spot the towers of the castle, long and dark and twisted, like a hand trying to grasp a piece of the sky.

A grim sight for a grim future.

“Tell me again about the Water Gardens, please.”

Her mumble is first answered by a lazy hand caressing her arm without haste.

“Come here.”

She sits next to the woman, her closest friend, and the Dornish softly pats her own shoulder in a sort of command for her to lay her head against her. Valaena pliantly obeys, finding a strange solace in the warmth and the faint scent of citrus that seems to cling to her friend’s skin.

“Think of this as a chance to help your lady mother more than a punishment.”

She closes her eyes as her brother’s wife holds her hand, tenderly stroking her fingers with a gentle reassurance.

“What about Rhaegar’s vision?”

It had been a sort of pact, between them both, to bear the prophecy and its consequences, with them both to give Rhaegar the necessary support to battle against their common enemy. Elia had been the one to gladly lure her, promising her the chance to soothe her aching heart with the Sword of the Morning, and to stand by her brother in the looming shadow of fate.

“Maybe Rhaegar has realized the unfairness of keeping you apart from the rest of the world, my dear sister.”

Sister. Both of them the sole daughters of their respective families, have grown that closer with time that have even grown used to call each other by the name they never thought they would ever say.

“I will miss you terribly” she mumbles, raising her head to look into Elia’s eyes, dark as the midnight sky yet filled with stars that gleam with kindness, empathy, and an unwavering strength. “I will miss Arthur terribly.”

Elia reaches out, her fingers brushing against the princess’ cheek, turning to gently cup her face and lean to whisper words of comfort against her lips, brushing them softly before fusing into a lingering kiss, slow and deep, both friends sharing a connection that goes beyond words and the roles they were born into.

Valaena whines against the Dornish, wanting to go further, needing more of that comfort and warmth in a moment of deep vulnerability. The kiss breaks, but their foreheads remain pressed together, their breaths mingling in the narrowness of the carriage.

“Elia…” she whimpers in a mumble, eyes half lidded.

“You are strong. You have the blood of dragonriders running through your veins. Where neither the king or Rhaegar reach you will. Remember it, my love” Elia whispers back, her voice a soothing balm to Valaena's restlessness.

Outside the sound of horses’ hooves clatters against the ground of the way, a rhythmic beat that mirrors the pounding of their hearts. The princess tries to make a further move but the change in their speed alerts her of a sudden arrival. Valaena's heart skips a beat, the anticipation of the unknown momentarily paralyzing her. The princess and Elia share a quick glance, filled with excitement and questions.

Out of curiosity she leans over the holes in the window and a myriad of colours catches her eye, showing the greatness of the Seven Kingdoms all gathered in the same place: carefully distributed, her eyes can spot Northmen, Reachmen, Stormlanders… A union she never thought possible.

As soon as the carriage stops, she turns to face the good Elia of Dorne, and tries her best to give her a soft and comforting smile.

“All for Mother.”

“All for Mother.” Elia returns the smile with a warmth that belies the tension of the moment. Despite the gravity of their journey, there is a spark of hope in her brown eyes that eases her temper.

By the holes in the window she can spot a white armor, and her heart skips a beat, forcing her to take a deep breath when her sworn shield announces their arrival before opening the door.

The worries confessed to her brother’s wife are set aside the moment Arthur Dayne’s lilac gaze meets hers, warm and sure, her own safe place amidst the chaos. When the Dornishman lends her a hand to help her come down, she glances at him with more than gratitude, smiling at him with a depth of emotion that surprises even her. Arthur returns her smile, his own eyes reflecting a similar intensity, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has grown between them both with the time.

How could this be the last chance to enjoy such a celebration they could spend together before the oncoming wedding?

“Did you had a nice travel, my lady?” he mumbles, only for her ears, his voice almost a purr, low and intimate. Her heart flutters, a response instinctively rising within her, a mix of excitement and a tinge of sadness at the thought of the upcoming changes.

“I missed you in there, my shining knight” her answer, with a smile she only keeps for him, makes the kingsguard look at her with a hint of longing in his gaze.

It is time for her to leave behind the comforts of her position and be a force to consider.

As soon as her feet touch ground, she meets again with Elia of Dorne by the front of the carriage, herself escorted by her own husband, whose glance towers over Valaena. Before them await the Whents, the large and opulent family who dare to believe themselves the heads of the Riverlands.

“Be welcome to Harrenhal, my princes” Walter Whent, with his large paunch, bows at them, almost like he would do with the Mad King himself, and Valaena can spot his brother, Oswell, raise an eyebrow at him from the protection of the white cloak by his shoulders. “Consider this your very home.”

A gracious nod from Valaena acknowledges the grand welcome, her expression serene yet carrying the weight of her station. The eyes of the Whent children fall upon her, the four lads observe her with attention while the girl’s gaze is full of a strange mix of curiosity and envy. Behind her composed gesture, learned through years of torment in the Red Keep, hides the bile boiling inside her at the sight of a family united.

“We are very thankful, lord Whent” Rhaegar’s voice cuts through the air, a calm yet authoritative timbre that demands attention, offering a stark contrast to the underlying tension. “Your hospitality extends beyond our expectations.”

“All for the realm, right?” lord Whent responds, his voice carrying a hint of pride mixed with the urgency of the hidden motive behind the gathering.

“Aye, all for the realm.”

Before Valaena realizes, the party splits and Rhaegar and lord Whent go on their own as lady Shella takes her and Elia and drives them to the insides of that monstruosity of a castle, her face reflecting an enthusiasm that seems almost too keen, betraying an underlying layer of anxiety for the evening’s proceedings. Harrenhal’s vast, haunting halls echo with their footsteps, and Valaena can’t help but think about the horrors that castle must have been witness of.

“We are just fine with a tent like the rest, lady Shella.”

The lady of the castle looks at her, sideways, little wrinkles framing her eyes, which have seen much in her years within these walls. “A tent?” she chuckles softly, the sound echoing slightly in the immense corridor. “My dear princess, I will not allow it. It would be beneath the honor of Harrenhal to host guests of your standing in anything less than the accommodations befitting your status.”

A warm thank from Elia eases the woman’s temper, and Valaena can’t help but wonder how her own mother, the queen Rhaella, would have acted if she would have the chance to be in Shella Whent’s place, overseeing such grand halls and being in the position to host members of the royal family. The thought brings a bittersweet smile to Valaena’s face, betraying the complexity of her emotions. As the daughter of the realm, she seldom had the chance to witness her mother in situations where she could exercise such autonomy and authority.

Lady Shella shares small talk with them, and finds rejoice as she discovers little details about them both, showing genuine interest and warmth in her demeanor.

“We have plenty of time between the acts to engage in conversation and learn from each other,” Lady Shella mentions, her voice carrying a blend of excitement and reverence. “It is not every day we are blessed with the chance of hosting such a gathering. It's a unique opportunity to exchange knowledge and understand different perspectives that could benefit our lands in times to come.”

A quick glance behind them is enough for Val to spot Arthur, her sworn shield, always vigilant and ready. He stands a respectful distance away, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger. His dedication to his duty is unwavering, a silent testament to his loyalty and the oath he has sworn to protect her at all costs.

Arthur’s bright glance upon hers sends shivers down her spine, not of fear, but of reassurance and something else she is not allowed to feel. His presence alone bolsters her confidence, reminding her of the unbreakable bond they share, forged in the fires of adversity and strengthened by the trials they have faced together. This bond, transcending the boundaries of their stations—she a noble, he a knight—carries with it the weight of unsaid promises and unspoken dreams. In the quiet moments, those promises seem to echo through the silence, a silent testament to what could be if the world were different.

Lady Shella finally shows them their rooms, strategically placed in the most discrete part of the main tower, ensuring their conversations and private moments remained just that—private.

“Each of your Highnesses has a maid ready to tend to any need, no matter the hour.”

When Elia excuses herself to get some rest, the first thing Valaena can do is to tug from Arthur’s hand and drag him into her own room, locking the door behind them. The room is adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes from ancient battles and myths, an enormous four-poster bed taking center stage, its sheets made of the finest silk that shimmered under the soft glow of the candlelight.

But she only has eyes for her knight.

“I need you” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, heavy with a mix of desperation and longing.

Arthur, taken aback by the sudden intensity, can see the earnestness in her gaze, the depth of her emotion mirrored in the dark pools of her eyes. For a moment, he is speechless, caught in the tempest of her vulnerability. It is a raw, unguarded moment that strips away the armor he's so accustomed to wearing—not the metal kind that protects his body, but the one that shields his heart. He's not used to laying bare his emotions, not like this, not with anyone. Yet, with her, it feels different.

It feels right.

“Come” before they can ever notice, the distance between them is reduced to nothing and they are free to love each other if it is only for a short while, a tangle of arms and unspoken words. The warmth of her body against his is a balm to the coldness he has carried inside for so long, a coldness he thought was his to bear alone. In her embrace, he finds a warmth he didn’t know he was searching for, a warmth that seeps into the crevices of his soul, thawing the frozen shards of his heart, piece by piece. It is a connection so profound it transcends the physical realm, delving into the depths of emotion and vulnerability that few ever reach. This isn't just love; it is adoration.

[viperofsand]

#prev tags >#even the most snatched bodybuilder in LA would lose to the weakest crazy florida man#< pretty much lol. i pretty much think he just shot him#uh. not with a gun. with a poison blow dart (via nobodysuspectsthebutterfly)

why does everyone assume howland reed killed arthur dayne using some form of trickery or trap-setting or backstabbing or valyrian steel sawed-off. it’s entirely possible that someone trained specifically in the art of fancy knightfighting for their entire life just could not handle howland’s swamp tactics and straight up died idk

[aeriondripflame]

Oo if you’re still doing top 5s - top 5 non-POV characters!

not going 2 lie i forgot about these (im sorry!) but:

1. not sure if he counts because of the forsaken but aeron greyjoy

2. viserys iii

3. mance rayder

4. robb stark

5. the hound

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Rating asoiaf characters based on how likely they are to use pocket sand:

Jon Snow - my hot take is that people are very delusional and wrong about Jon. It’s not that he’s too “honorable” or “good” to use pocket sand in a fight coz he’s definitely not above using dirty tricks. But you gotta ask, which Jon is it? Agot-acok!Jon is def not using pocket sand because he thinks it’s dishonorable and a coward’s weapon. Asos!Jon is 8/10 gonna use pocket sand because fuq honor. Adwd and beyond!Jon is 0/10….he’s got something far more devious in his pockets - broken shards of glass.

Dany - yeah she’s using it, 7/10. She’s a smart girl. Like her actions in Astapor and Meereen show that she’s not above using dirty tricks to get ahead. Now how much pocket sand is she willing to use and against who? That’s the question…I can see her hesitating if her opponent is a small child.

Arya - for sure using pocket sand 10/10. There’s no denying it. She’s actually studied which types of sand are the best suited for different situations. But she’s quick enough that people don’t know what happened until she’s far away.

Bran - he doesn’t even know what pocket sand is so 0/10

Sansa - she knows what pocket sand is but she’s usually not willing to use it because it gets her clothes and hands dirty. If she’s really pushed…maybe? 2/10 but she’d gladly watch someone else do it

Robb - oh 20/10 using it no doubt. He’s been pushing Jon to get on the pocket sand trend for years to no avail

Theon - went with Robb to the pocket sand factory for a boys’ date out. 20/10 using it and with RELISH

Ned Stark - knows what pocket sand is, is unwilling to use it himself, but will turn the other way when he sees his buddy whip it out 0/10

Cat - yeah she’s using it, I’m not willing to debate over this 10/10

Davos - um yeah 10/10 using it….look sometimes you have to use all the tools available to you to survive

Jaime - trick question because which Jaime? Pre-hand chop Jaime? Won’t use it on principle. It’s cowardly and stupid. Post-hand chop Jaime? Yeah….he’s using it because he has to so 8/10

Brienne - look she doesn’t want to use it, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do 6/10

Pod - *confused* “why would anyone carry sand in their pockets to a fight?” 0/10

Howland Reed - was actually the one who invented the best sand for it and is mass producing it. Probably used it to defeat Arthur Dayne 100/10

Meera - come on, she’s swamp person and howland’s kid so 20/10 using pocket sand

Bronn - involved in an MLM to sell pocket sand 100/10

Tyrion - the one who founded the MLM and recruited Bronn so 200/10