“I keep remembering the Stark words. Winter has come, Father. For me. For me. Robb must fight the Greyjoys now as well as the Lannisters, and for what? For a gold hat and an iron chair? Surely the land has bled enough. I want my girls back, I want Robb to lay down his sword and pick some homely daughter of Walder Frey to make him happy and give him sons. I want Bran and Rickon back. I want… Catelyn hung her head. “I want,” she said once more, and then her words were gone.”

bahorelle:

margaery, loras, and sansa having sleepovers and doing each other’s hair and talking about clothes and boys and how they should go about ruling westeros

I was ironborn. A son… a son of Pyke, of the islands.

“Child,” said the singer, “put up that sword, and we’ll take you to a safe place and get some food in that belly. There are wolves in these parts, and lions, and worse things. No place for a little girl to be wandering alone.”
“She’s not alone.” Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chain mail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. “Do like she says, and leave us be,” warned Gendry.

It runs in the blood.

songsofwolves:

“Valar Dohaeris. All men must serve.”