“Robert wanted to be loved. My brother Tyrion has the same disease. Do you want to be loved, Sansa?” “Everyone wants to be loved.” “I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. “Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day.
Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”
The mother heard her. Somehow the queen’s voice cut through the woman’s ravaged wits. Her slack face twisted in loathing. “Whore!” she shrieked. “Kingslayer’s whore!Brotherfucker!” Her dead child dropped from her arms like a sack of flour as she pointed at Cersei. “Brotherfucker brotherfucker brotherfucker.” - Tyrion IX, ACoK
“M’lady,” said the big man. “Here she is.” “Aye,” added the one-eyed man. “The Kingslayer’s whore.” She flinched. “Why would you call me that?” “If I had a silver stag for every time you said his name, I’d be as rich as your friends the Lannisters.” “That was only … you do not understand …” “Don’t we, though?” The big man laughed. “I think we might. There’s a stink of lion about you, lady.” - Brienne VIII, AFfC
“How can you still count yourself a knight,
when you have forsaken every vow you ever swore?” Jaime reached for the flagon to refill his cup. “So many vows…they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other.” He took a healthy swallow of wine and closed his eyes for an instant, leaning his head back against the patch of nitre on the wall. “I was the youngest man ever to wear the white cloak.” “And the youngest to betray all it stood for, Kingslayer.” “Kingslayer,” he pronounced carefully. “And such a king he was!”
“He is still your elder brother. If either of you can be said to have a right to the Iron Throne, it must be Lord Stannis.“
Renly shrugged. "Tell me, what right did my brother Robert ever have to the Iron Throne?” He did not wait for an answer. “Oh, there was talk of the blood ties between Baratheon and Targaryen, of weddings a hundred years past, of second sons and elder daughters. No one but the maesters care about any of it. Robert won the throne with his warhammer.” He swept a hand across the campfires that burned from horizon to horizon. “Well, there is my claim, as good as Robert’s ever was.”
♚ Qhorin Halfhand turned his head. His eyes met Jon’s, and held them for a long moment. “Very well. I choose Jon Snow.” Mormont blinked. “He is hardly more than a boy. And my steward besides. Not even a ranger.”
Arya Meme: (1/6) Locations ↳ Harrenhal ~ On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenbal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty.Sometimes she thought they were all mice within those thick walls, even the knights and the great lords. The size of the castle made even Gregor Clegane seem small. Harrenhal covered thrice as much ground as Winterfell, and its buildings were so much larger they could scarcely be compared. Its stables housed a thousand horses, its godswood covered twenty acres, its kitchens were as large as Winterfell’s Great Hall, and its own great hall, grandly named the Hall of a Hundred Hearths even though it only had thirty and some (Arya had tried to count them, twice, but she came up with thirty-three once and thirty-five the other time) was so cavernous that Lord Tywin could have feasted his entire host, though he never did. Walls, doors, halls, steps, everything was built to an inhuman scale that made Arya remember the stories Old Nan used to tell of the giants who lived beyond the Wall.