#agotedit

There are no heroes. In life, the monsters win.

I must be as strong as my lady mother.

She went back to the window, Needle in hand, and looked down into the courtyard below. If only she could climb like Bran, she thought ; she would go out the window and down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they’d return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone.  — Arya, AGOT

Lannister, Targaryen, Baratheon, Stark, Tyrell: They’re all just spokes on a wheel. This one’s on top, then that one’s on top, then on and on it spins.

     “The time for that is past, my lady,” Mirri said. “All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the nightlands. He will be gone by morning.”      Her words were a knife through Dany’s breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all...

Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father’s killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one...but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three.

When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.

Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm.