I really, really doubt that the "Bolton" name will stick to Sansa. Her universally hated husband (of what, three months?) has been defeated and killed and his house expunged. And she'll probably order your legs broken if you say that name in her presence.

That might be Jon's greatest strength and his greatest weakness—as a D&D build he's very well-balanced, but that also means that he's never the Strongest or Wisest or most Charismatic person around (though he's arguably the Luckiest.)

I feel like Robb was a guy who would have benefited by losing more, ironically. He grew up the favoured, gifted firstborn son of a major house. He was athletic and handsome and popular, and what's more he was talented: never lost a battle and made the shiny Lannisters look like chumps more than once. He was almost…

I'd tie his fucking shoelaces together. Let him look all brave and pretty at the back for once.

She read the minutes afterward.

It's not really a word, but Jon Snow Cannae'd himself. Just like a dumbass.

Wun Wun, though big and courageous, was never particularly bright or tactically minded. What he really needed was some sort of halfling riding on his shoulder, Merry & Pippin style, to throw rocks and shout good ideas into his ear.

I don't think he was anywhere near helpless in close combat, but he tried to short-circuit the process by shooting Jon at close range. Which, of course, meant that he was clutching a bow rather than a dagger when Jon got within striking distance, and for once his inexplicable invincibility failed him.

Standard bearers, usually.

Pretty much the only way that Game of Thrones was ever going to remind anybody of Prometheus.

Oh, a handful of them probably did. With that many edged implements waving around the place someone probably took a sword to the gut out of sheer random chance.

It's not hard to cut a rakish figure when everybody else in a two-mile radius is literally caked with mud, gore and cowshit.

That was the Smalljon. I think Tormund just recognized him as an enemy leader.

While Rickon's death as about as predictable as the sunrise, I admit to being a little surprised that apparently nobody cared that Ramsay was publicly playing target practice with (as far as they know) the last trueborn son of their martyred leader Eddard Stark.

Of course. But that makes for a deeply shitty commander—and it goes double for someone who'd been warned, specifically and repeatedly, about falling into the stupid obvious trap he was in the process of falling into.

Ol' George was shockingly good at not dying, it's true. That and his complete mastery of the tactical retreat forged a nation.

I just wish Jon Snow had one idea. That he was slightly more clever than he acted.

Oddly that's one thing that's survived until modern day, albeit in a different form.

Wun Wun was a dead giant walking before the arrow to the eye, though. There are no blood transfusions or ICUs around. Heck, from a certain perspective Ramsay did him a kindness of a quick exit rather than slowly bleeding to death from a hundred wounds.

You don't have to be Clausewitz or Hannibal to know not to charge your inferior force directly into your enemy's archers and cavalry.