Now I Understand Why King Stannis Let

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.

The Man Who Passes The Sentence Should Swing The Sword.

It All Goes Back And Back," Tyrion Thought, "to Our Mothers And Fathers And Theirs Before Them. We Are Puppets Dancing On The Strings Of Those Who Came Before Us, And One Day Our Own Children Will Take Up Our Strings And Dance In Our Steads.

"come At Once," She Had Written To Him. "help Me. Save Me. I Need You Now As I Have Never Needed You Before. I Love You. I Love You. I Love You. Come At Once"

I Thank You For Calling Them Off, Young Ser. I Promise You, They Would Have Found Me Indigestible.