WINTER IS COMING ~ Le nord est la plus vaste des neuf régions qui composent Westeros. Mais paradoxalement elle n'est pas la plus peuplée. Cette région est soumise à un climat très rude et à des intempéries réguliers ce qui en fait une région peu hospitalière. Cependant cette région possède un territoire varié, la grande forêt de conifères du Bois du Loup au nord ou encore les Landes glacées au centre de la région sont de parfaits exemples des différents paysages visibles dans le Nord. A l’extrême nord la très ancienne garde de nuit veille encore du haut de son mur millénaire. Et à l’extrême sud, le neck et ses marécages forment une barrière naturelle avec le reste du royaume. Il n'y a pas de grandes villes dans le nord, la seule ville notable serait Blancport, la seule ville commerciale de la région. Le nord est depuis toujours dirigé par les Stark de Winterfell anciennement rois du nord.

FAMILY, DUTY, HONOR ~ She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.

She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself. She swears on and in their names to love and cherish her lord husband for ever and for what would come after. Willos Tyrell id taller than her, older too. They are standing in front of each other in the sept of Highgarden, the golden rose of Tyrell everywhere; in her hair, embroidered on her corset, falling like a river trough her veil and train. It was almost as long as the aisle, of a bright silver like the gown itself. Sansa knows she looks like a queen, maybe even more beautiful than Cersei herself.