Does your family have an ancient pedigree dating back to Bran the Builder in the Age of Heroes? Have you heard a direwolf’s howl and just started to, you know, feel it? If you’ve ever wondered whether your true home is Winterfell and/or you anticipate assuming the responsibilities of Warden of the North one day, read on to find out what makes a Stark a Stark.
You know you’re a Stark if…
You are the child of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, the most recent Lord and Lady of Winterfell, and your Oldtown-issued birth certificate says “Stark.”
The blood of the First Men runs in your veins.
You swear by the Old Gods and the New.
When you die, you take your place in a crypt to rest for eternity with your ancestors, a broadsword laid across your tomb to keep your restless spirit contained.
You are secretly the child of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.
Note: If this is the case, you must soon decide whether your allegiance is to the North, the only home you’ve ever known, or to Daenerys Targaryen and the blood of the dragon you share with her.
You and your siblings enjoyed a well-supported, emotionally stable childhood, differentiating your family from every other house in Westeros.
You have, on more than one occasion, talked to a tree with a face. And it’s totally fine.
You probably have more in common with a wildling than with someone from King’s Landing. (Southerners have no idea what real winter is like.)
At least one of you must always be in Winterfell. If you don’t know who the Stark in Winterfell is, you’re the Stark in Winterfell.
Sometimes, and this is not a big deal, you’ll temporarily inhabit the mind of a direwolf, experiencing the thrill of the hunt with your pack brothers at your side, at home in the wilderness. When you wake up, you almost miss the feeling of your teeth tearing into your prey, but you return to waking life with a deeper connection to your Northern homeland.
You’ve personally performed at least one execution, because the man who passes the sentence must swing the sword.
You’ve already put snow chains on all your horse-drawn carts.
Your school only took field trips to the Wall, even when the entire class voted to visit the Arbor.
The Night’s Watch recruited aggressively every time your school had a career fair. (You know it’s a great opportunity for a third son, but you’re not sure about the uniform and the travel involved. Also, White Walkers? No thank you.)
You heard the Rat Cook story dozens of times at camp, but it still freaks you out.
On a long enough timeline, you can always predict the weather. (Winter is coming. Eventually.)
You tried to touch the castle thermostat once, but Dad yelled at you to just put on another bearskin cloak.
Hodor. Hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor hodor. Hodor hodor.
For more telltale signs of Northern ancestry, don’t miss the final season of Game of Thrones on DIRECTV.
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