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July 15 - December 11, 2024
Live for vengeance. A Lannister always pays his debts.
It gave him some cold consolation to know that they feared him that much, even now.
They will leave her a cripple too, but inside, where it does not show.
Interesting take
“Thee’th not to be touched,” the goat screamed, spraying spittle all over Zollo. “Thee hath to be a maid, you foolth! Thee’th worth a bag of thapphireth!” And from then on, every night Hoat put guards on them, to protect them from his own. Two nights passed in silence before the wench finally found the courage to whisper, “Jaime? Why did you shout out?” “Why did I shout ‘sapphires,’ you mean? Use your wits, wench. Would this lot have cared if I shouted ‘rape’?” “You did not need to shout at all.” “You’re hard enough to look at with a nose. Besides, I wanted to make the goat say
...more
I love him for this. Also him equating honor with stupidity and lack of social strategy
We will die together as we were born together.
Someone had dug a privy trench in the very spot where he’d once knelt before the king to say his vows. I never dreamed how quick the sweet would turn to sour. Aerys would not even let me savor that one night. He honored me, and then he spat on me.
“Kill him!” said another. “His head for Ned Stark’s!”
Jaime had only enough time to exchange a quick look with Brienne before they were marched away, separately.
“Will you take some wine at least?” “Does the High Septon ever pray?”
Jaime saw green flames reaching up into the sky higher than the tallest towers, as burning men screamed in the streets. I have dreamed this dream before. It was almost funny, but there was no one to share the joke.
I’ll put a leech on your eye to drain the bad blood.” “A leech. Lovely.” “Lord Bolton is very fond of leeches,” Qyburn said primly. “Yes,” said Jaime. “He would be.”
LMAO
Well, I burned most of this, I suppose it’s only just that I rebuild it.
There was a shout from above, and a clod of manure exploded on the ground a foot in front of them. Tyrion’s mare reared and almost threw him. “On second thoughts,” he said when he had the horse in hand, “let the poxy brats splatter on the cobbles like overripe melons.”
His marriage was a daily agony. Sansa Stark remained a maiden, and half the castle seemed to know it. When they had saddled up this morning, he’d heard two of the stableboys sniggering behind his back.
Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good. No words would ever make him fair in her eyes. Or any less a Lannister. This was the wife they had given him, for all the rest of his life, and she hated him.
I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust.
Get a job stay away from her
He had never seen markets so crowded, and for all the food the Tyrells were bringing in, prices remained shockingly high.
“My sweet sister has arranged the feast. Even if I could secure you this invitation, it might look queer. Seven kingdoms, seven vows, seven challenges, seventy-seven dishes … but eight singers? What would the High Septon think?”
At long last, Father? Valyrian steel blades were scarce and costly, yet thousands remained in the world, perhaps two hundred in the Seven Kingdoms alone. It had always irked his father that none belonged to House Lannister. The old Kings of the Rock had owned such a weapon, but the greatsword Brightroar had been lost when the second King Tommen carried it back to Valyria on his fool’s quest.
“How did you get this patterning? I’ve never seen anything like it.” “Nor I, my lord,” said the armorer. “I confess, these colors were not what I intended, and I do not know that I could duplicate them.
Ice bleeds.
Tyrion put down Joffrey’s sword and took up the other. If not twins, the two were at least close cousins. This one was thicker and heavier, a half-inch wider and three inches longer, but they shared the same fine clean lines and the same distinctive color, the ripples of blood and night. Three fullers, deeply incised, ran down the second blade from hilt to point; the king’s sword had only two.
There is a tool for every task, and a task for every tool.”
Banger line
Knights are supposed to defend women and children.
Sometimes I think everyone is just pretending to be brave, and none of us really are. Maybe pretending is how you get brave, I don’t know. Let them call you Slayer, who cares?”
“They only come when it’s cold.” “Yes,” said Sam, “but is it the cold that brings the wights, or the wights that bring the cold?”
The Lord Commander stood over Craster’s corpse, dark with anger. “The gods will curse us,” he cried. “There is no crime so foul as for a guest to bring murder into a man’s hall. By all the laws of the hearth, we—”
He twisted free of the old man’s grasp, shoved the knife into Mormont’s belly, and yanked it out again, all red. And then the world went mad.
“Tell my son. Jorah. Tell him, take the black. My wish. Dying wish.”
“The boy’s brothers,” said the old woman on the left. “Craster’s sons. The white cold’s rising out there, crow. I can feel it in my bones. These poor old bones don’t lie. They’ll be here soon, the sons.”
“The brotherhood without banners.” Tom Sevenstrings plucked a string. “The knights of the hollow hill.”
We are the forgotten fellowship.”
“Might be you are knights after all. You lie like knights, maybe you murder like knights.”
“A knight’s a sword with a horse. The rest, the vows and the sacred oils and the lady’s favors, they’re silk ribbons tied round the sword. Maybe the sword’s prettier with ribbons hanging off it, but it will kill you just as dead. Well, bugger your ribbons, and shove your swords up your arses. I’m the same as you. The only difference is, I don’t lie about what I am. So kill me, but don’t call me a murderer while you stand there telling each other that your shit don’t stink. You hear me?”
“I should have traded the Kingslayer for Sansa when you first urged it,” Robb said as they walked the gallery. “If I’d offered to wed her to the Knight of Flowers, the Tyrells might be ours instead of Joffrey’s. I should have thought of that.”
She clutched tight at his hand. “Nothing will happen to you. Nothing. I could not stand it. They took Ned, and your sweet brothers. Sansa is married, Arya is lost, my father’s dead … if anything befell you, I would go mad, Robb. You are all I have left. You are all the north has left.”
“You would not be the first king to bend the knee, nor even the first Stark.”
“I freed Jaime for Sansa’s sake … and Arya’s, if she still lives. You know that. But if I nurtured some hope of buying peace as well, was that so ill?” “Yes,” he said. “The Lannisters killed my father.” “Do you think I have forgotten that?” “I don’t know. Have you?” Catelyn had never struck her children in anger, but she almost struck Robb then.
There are fights no sword can win, Catelyn wanted to tell him, but she feared the king was deaf to such words.
“Not Ramsay Snow? Does Lord Roose have another bastard?” Robb scowled. “This Ramsay was a monster and a murderer, and he died a coward. Or so I was told.”
“My lord father bids me tell Your Grace that he will agree to this new marriage alliance between our houses and renew his fealty to the King in the North, upon the condition that the King’s Grace apologize for the insult done to House Frey, in his royal person, face to face.”
Catelyn misliked this petty condition of Lord Walder’s at once.
“It has always been so. I am not … I am not a cruel man, Ser Davos. You know me. Have known me long. This is not my decree. It has always been so, since Aegon’s day and before. Daemon Blackfyre, the brothers Toyne, the Vulture King, Grand Maester Hareth … traitors have always paid with their lives … even Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was daughter to one king and mother to two more, yet she died a traitor’s death for trying to usurp her brother’s crown. It is law. Law, Davos.
I have a duty to my daughter.
She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark.
“Now you sound a fool,” the king complained. “She saw Renly’s end in the flames, yes, but she had no more part in it than I did. The priestess was with me.
the new Velaryon is six years old,
Soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends.”
Renly and his peach.
Give me the boy and I shall wake the stone dragon.”
“Robert did that. Not the boy. My daughter has grown fond of him. And he is mine own blood.”
