Flash sheet titled Choose Your GOT Tattoo, showing twelve black line drawings of Game of Thrones house sigils and Valyrian phrases.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Game of Thrones house sigil flash sheet

Black and grey · Flash

A numbered flash sheet headed Choose Your GOT Tattoo, with twelve black line drawings of house sigils and two Valyrian phrases above some designs. The sigils include a wolf, a stag, a dragon, a lion and a chandelier, drawn in simple outline with some hatching. The design sits on a beige parchment-style background with no colour ink.

Wolf Stag Dragon Lion

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hollis had worked the Calder Bridge crossing for nineteen years, and she could usually tell from the way a thumb hovered over a page whether someone was hiding something. The man at her counter that wet Tuesday had nothing to hide. He had a cardboard tube under one arm and a single sheet he kept smoothing flat with the side of his hand, as if it might try to roll itself up again.

Keep reading

The sheet was parchment-coloured and printed with twelve black drawings, each with a number beneath it. A wolf with its head low. A stag whose antlers spread like a bare hedge in January. A lion, a dragon coiled around nothing in particular, and a chandelier hanging from a line that ended nowhere. Two of the drawings had words above them in a script Hollis couldn't read.

"Which of these are you carrying across?" she asked.

"None of them. That's the book the shop keeps for choosing from." He tapped number nine, the lion. "My sister drew the frame round it. She spent a winter learning to say those words properly, the way some people learn a hymn. Said if you're going to carry something across a border you should know what it means."

Hollis turned the sheet toward the lamp. Someone had pencilled a small ring around number nine, and beside it, in handwriting that leaned hard to the right, a single word she did recognise: home. She stamped his passport, slid it back under the glass, and watched him fold the sheet along its old creases, the lion turned inward, before he tucked it carefully into the tube.