“I am Alayne, father. Who else would I be?”
(Source: wolfinlionskingdom, via jurasskal)
A Clash of Kings, Chapter 2
I’m only a little lion, child, and I vow, I shall not savage you.
women rise from the ashes of men
(Source: bericdondarrion, via asongoficeandfiregraphics)
“Tell me, Alayne — which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?”
“The hidden dagger.”
(Source: sansasnark, via azorahai)
I am free of Joffrey. I will not have to kiss him, nor give him my maidenhood, nor bear him children. Let Margaery Tyrell have all that, poor girl.
“Here, girl.” Sandor Clegane knelt before her, between her and Joffrey. With a delicacy surprising in such a big man, he dabbed at the blood welling from her broken lip. The moment was gone. Sansa lowered her eyes. “Thank you,” she said when he was done.
”Someone give the girl something to cover herself with” the Imp said. Sandor Clegane unfastened his cloak and tossed it at her. Sansa clutched it against her chest, fists bunched hard in the white wool. The coarse weave was scratchy against her chin, but no velvet had ever felt so fine.
(via fuckyeahgameofthrones)
“My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.”
(via fuckyeahwinterfell)
