Bran could not take his eyes off the blood. The snows around the stump drank it eagerly, reddening as he watched.
Lord Balon grunted. “Casterly Rock has never fallen.” “Until now.” Theon smiled. And how sweet that will be. His father did not return the smile. “So this is why Robb Stark sends you back to me, after so long? So you might win my consent to this plan of his?” “It is my plan, not Robb’s,” Theon said proudly. Mine, as the victory will be mine, and in time the.
In his youth, Ser Eustace Osgrey must have been the very picture of chivalry, tall and broad and handsome. Time and grief had worked their will on him, but he was still unbent, a big-boned, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested man with features as strong and sharp as some old eagle. His close-cropped hair had gone white as milk, but the thick mustache that hid his mouth remained an ashy grey. His eyebrows were the same color, the eyes beneath a paler shade of grey, and full of sadness. They.
Whatever happens, I thank you for your leal service.
He drank his way across the narrow sea.
The road ahead was full of perils, he knew, but what of it? All men must die. All he asked was time.
A man can make do with seven fingers. Seven is a sacred number.
Like their dragons, the Targaryens answered to neither gods nor men.
You Westerosi are all the same. You sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly you are all lions or dragons or eagles. I can take you to a real lion, my little friend. The prince keeps a pride in his menagerie. Would you like to share a cage with them?” The lords of the Seven Kingdoms did make rather much of their sigils, Tyrion had to admit. “Very well,” he conceded. “A Lannister is not a lion.
The funeral procession departed King’s Landing.
Better a long life as a squire than a shore one as a soiled knight.
If you’re going to write histories, Tarly, you have to do the research, Archmaester Ebrose, Game of Thrones S7.
The worst part is not the dying, it’s not knowing when or how.
Littlefinger loves Littlefinger.
At Winterfell they had called her “Arya Horseface” and she’d thought nothing could be worse, but that was before the orphan boy Lommy Greenhands had named her “Lumpyhead.” Her head felt lumpy.
But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman’s pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?
The call came drifting through the black of night. Jon pushed himself onto an elbow, his hand reaching for Longclaw by force of habit as the camp began to stir. The horn that wakes the sleepers, he thought.
Winter comes for all of us, Catelyn thought. For me, it came when Ned died. It will come for you too, child, and sooner than you like. She did not have the heart to say it.
Then a begging brother in a tattered brown robe said a blessing on his sword, and a maid kissed his cheek. ‘They are for me,’ “Why?” He asked Pate. “What am I to them?” “A knight who remembered his vows,” the smith said.
When a wolf descends upon your flocks, all you gain by killing him is a short respite, for other wolves will come,” King Garth IX said famously. “If instead you feed the wolf and tame him and turn his pups into your guard dogs, they will protect the flocks when the pack comes ravening.” King.