She pushed him back against the trunk of a tree and kissed him, full on the lips right there in the midst of the ragged column. Jon heard Grigg the Goat urging her on. Someone else laughed. He kissed her back despite all that. When they finally broke apart, Ygritte was flushed. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “Mine, as I’m yours. And if we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we’ll live.”
Don’t you think we ought to do something about it? When I was Hand of the King under your father’s predecessor, the skulls of all the Targaryen dragons were kept in this room. The skull of the last of them was right here. It was the size of an apple.