“Jon reached to pull aside the cloak he’d hung over the rock, and found it stiff and frozen. He crept beneath it and stood up in a forest turned to crystal. The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice. So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he’d dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all.”
she could not help but think of Ned’s bastard on the Wall, and the thought made her angry and guilty, both at once
“This is my place as it is yours, and soon enough you may have grave need of me”
The White Walkers sleep beneath the ice for thousands of years; and when they wake up…
There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard.
“I know one thing. I know that you are wildling to the bone.” It was easy to forget that sometimes, when they were laughing together, or kissing. But then one of them would say something, or do something, and he would suddenly be reminded of the wall between their worlds.