If? The Word Is When.

All That Syrio Forel Had Taught Her Went Racing Through Her Head. Swift As A Deer. Quiet As Shadow. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Quick As A Snake. Calm As Still Water. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Strong As A Bear. Fierce As A Wolverine. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Then Man Who Fears Losing Has Already Lost. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords.

Start Trying To Work Out Who Deserves What, And Before Long You'll Spend The Rest Of Your Days Weeping For Each And Every Person In The World.

You're Mine," She Whispered. "mine, As I'm Yours. And If We Die, We Die. All Men Must Die, Jon Snow. But First, We'll Live.

We're All Just Songs In The End. If We Are Lucky.

Needle Was Robb And Bran And Rickon, Her Mother And Her Father, Even Sansa. Needle Was Winterfell's Grey Walls, And The Laughter Of Its People. Needle Was The Summer Snows, Old Nan's Stories, The Heart Tree With Its Red Leaves And Scary Face, The Warm Earthy Smell Of The Glass Gardens, The Sound Of The North Wind Rattling The Shutters Of Her Room. Needle Was Jon Snow's Smile. He Used To Mess My Hair And Call Me "little Sister," She Remembered, And Suddenly There Were Tears In Her Eyes.