And Arya… he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had… yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.
When I was a child, an uncle asked what gift I wanted for my name day. I begged him for one of you. “It wouldn’t even have to be a big dragon,” I told him. “It could be little like me.” Everyone laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Then my father told me the last dragon had died a century ago. I cried myself to sleep that night. But here you are.
one ship (friend)
→ tyrion lannister
Tyrion Lannister, the youngest of Lord Tywin’s brood, and by far the ugliest. All that the gods had given to Cersei and Jaime, they had denied Tyrion. He was a dwarf, half his brother’s height, struggling to keep pace on stunted legs. His head was too large for his body, with a brute’s squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it seemed white. Jon watched him with fascination.
day one: one character
sandor cleganeaka the hound
“What do you think a knight is for, girl? You think it’s all taking favors from ladies and looking fine in gold plate? Knights are for killing. I killed my first man at twelve. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve killed since then. High lords with old names, fat rich men dressed in velvet, knights puffed up like bladders with their honors, yes, and women and children too—they’re all meat, and I’m the butcher.”