Nov 19, 2017
She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her.
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from Türkiye
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her.
"You make us look bad," complained Toad
"You looked bad before I ever met you," Jon told him.
Bran could not take his eyes off the blood. The snows around the stump drank it eagerly, reddening as he watched.
He can make me look at the heads, she told herself, but he can't make me see them.
He caught a glimpse of Septa Mordane in the gallery, with his daughter Sansa beside her. Ned felt a flash of anger; this was no place for a girl. But the septa could not have known that today’s court would be anything but the usual tedious business of hearing petitions, settling disputes between rival holdfasts, and adjudicating the placement of boundary stones.
Torches just blind you.
Syrio had told her once that darkness could be her friend, and he was right
Sansa Meme ↳ 4/10 Scenes: Ser Hugh’s Death
Jeyne Poole wept so hysterically that Septa Mordane finally took her off to regain her composure, but Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching with a strange fascination. She had never seen a man die before. She ought to be crying too, she thought, but the tears would not come. Perhaps she had used up all her tears for Lady and Bran. It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her, some stranger from the Vale of Arryn whose name she had forgotten as soon as she heard it.
The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her.
For once, Tyrion Lannister found himself at a loss for words...
The blind man smiled. He was a tiny thing, wrinkled and hairless, shrunken beneath the weight of a hundred years so his maester’s collar with all its links of many metals hung loose about his throat. “I have been called many things, my lord,” he said, “but kind is seldom one of them.” This time Tyrion himself led the laughter.