It was an old castle, but not a strong one. She had taken it from the Glovers, and the Bastard of Bolton would take it from her. He would not flay her, though. Asha Greyjoy did not intend to be taken alive. She would die as she had lived, with an axe in her hand and a laugh upon her lips. ― The Wayward Bride, A Dance with Dragons.
“have the iron islands ever had a queen before?” “no more then westeros.” … “lord tyrion tells me your father was a terrible king.” “you and i have that in common.” “we do, and both murdered by a usurper as well.”
Now, she told herself, I must do it now. Gods give me courage. She took one step, then another. Lords and knights stepped aside silently to let her pass, and she felt the weight of their eyes on her. I must be as strong as my lady mother. ― Sansa V, A Game of Thrones.
Crows will fight over a dead man’s flesh and kill each other for his eyes.“ Lord Rodrik stared across the sea, watching the play of moonlight on the waves. "We had one king, then five. Now all I see are crows, squabbling over the corpse of Westeros.” He fastened the shutters. “Do not go to Old Wyk, Asha. Stay with your mother. We shall not have her long, I fear.”
Asha shifted in her seat. “My mother raised me to be bold. If I do not go, I will spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if I had." ― The Kraken’s Daughter, A Feast for Crows.
Theon had time for a choked gasp before Asha snatched the axe from the air and slammed it down into the table, splitting his trencher in two and splattering his mantle with drippings. “There’s my lord husband.” His sister reached down inside her gown and drew a dirk from between her breasts. “And here’s my sweet suckling babe.”
Peace. Land. Victory. I’ll give you Sea Dragon
Point and the Stony Shore, black earth and tall trees and stones enough
for every younger son to build a hall. We’ll have the northmen too … as
friends, to stand with us against the Iron Throne. Your choice is
simple. Crown me, for peace and victory. Or crown my uncle, for more war
and more defeat.What will you have, ironmen?
They hung upon the walls, before her and behind her, high and low, everywhere she looked, everywhere she turned. She saw old faces and young faces, pale faces and dark faces, smooth faces and wrinkled faces, freckled faces and scarred faces, handsome faces and homely faces, men and women, boys and girls, even babes, smiling faces, frowning faces, faces full of greed and rage and lust, bald faces and faces bristling with hair. Masks, she told herself, it’s only masks, but even as she thought the thought, she knew it wasn’t so. They were skins. // From one such island rose a weirwood gnarled and ancient, its bole and branches white as the surrounding snows. Eight days ago Asha had walked out with Aly Mormont to have a closer look at its slitted red eyes and bloody mouth. It is only sap, she’d told herself, the red sap that flows inside these weirwoods. But her eyes were unconvinced; seeing was believing, and what they saw was frozen blood.
Listen, kid. The patriarchy is the worst goddamn thing you’ll ever have to confront and I don’t need to tell you that you’ve been confronting it every day since you were born. But you don’t have to go it alone, ok? Especially not when ninety percent of the time…been there. Done that. Let’s be a coven of bitches together, okay?