She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead. She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We’ll give her those, as many as she likes.
She had often daydreamed of how she would dance at her wedding, with every eye upon her and her handsome lord. In her dreams they had all been smiling.
» Mothers and fathers made up the gods because they wanted their children to sleep through the night.
“But her eyes were the most terrible thing. Her eyes saw him, and they hated. ‘She don’t speak’, said the big man in the yellow cloak. ‘You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers.’”
Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail, never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb, but they refuse. They cling to the realm, or the gods, or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.
Ahhh, Jon and Ygritte are so happy (◡‿◡✿)
“We’ll go back to the cave”
I can already taste blood in my mouth (☉‿☉✿)
