A Game of Thrones

Bran thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?"
"That is the only time a man can be brave," his father told him.
-- Bran

[Personality]
A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.
-- Bran, by Eddard Stark

Winter is coming.
-- Eddard

"Why do you read so much?"
Tyrion looked up at the sound of the voice. Jon Snow was standing a few feet away, regarding him curiously. He closed the book on a finger and said, "Look at me and tell me what you see."
The boy looked at him suspiciously. "Is this some kind of trick? I see you. Tyrion Lannister."
Tyrion sighed. "You are remarkably polite for a bastard, Snow. What you see is a dwarf. You are what, twelve?"
-- Tyrion

Donal Noye leaned forward, into Jon's face. "Now think on this, boy. None of these others have ever had a master-at-arms until Ser Alliser. Their fathers were farmers and wagon men and poachers, smiths and miners and oars on a trading galley. What they know of fighting they learned between decks, in the alleys of Oldtown and Lannisport, in wayside brothels and taverns on the kingsroad. They may have clacked a few sticks together before they came here, but I promise you, not one in twenty was ever rich enough to own a real sword." His look was grim. "So how do you like the taste of your victories now, Lord Snow?"
-- Jon

Maester Luwin was not smiling. "We have visitors," he announced, "and your presence is required, Bran."
"I'm listening to a story now," Bran complained.
"Stories wait, my little lord, and when you come back to them, why, there they are," Old Nan said. "Visitors are not so patient, and oft times they bring stories of their own."
-- Bran

"Hodor," he said again. Theon Greyjoy had once commented that Hodor did not know much, but no one could doubt that he knew his name.
-- Bran

"Are you well, my lord?" asked one of his men, his sword in hand. He glanced nervously at the dire wolves as he spoke.
"My sleeve is torn and my breeches are unaccountably damp, but nothing was harmed save my dignity."
-- Tyrion Lannister

"Dark wings, dark words," Ned murmured. It was a proverb Old Nan had taught him as a boy.
-- Eddard

"Lord Petyr," Ned called after him. "I ... am grateful for your help. Perhaps I was wrong to distrust you."
Littlefinger fingered his small pointed beard. "You are slow to learn, lord Eddard. Distrusting me was the wisest thing you've done since you climbed down off your horse."
-- Eddard

He wondered what Tyrion would have made of the fat boy. Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, the dwarf had told him, grinning. The world was full of cravens who pretended to be heroes; it took a queer sort of courage to admit to cowardice as Samwell Tarly had.
-- Jon

[Clue]
"... found one bastard," one said. "The rest will come soon. A day, two days, a fortnight ..."
"And when he learns the truth, what will he do?" a second voice asked in the liquid accents of the Free Cities.
"The gods alone know," the first voice said. Arya could see a wisp of grey smoke drifting up off the torch, writhing like a snake as it rose. "The fools tried to kill his son, and what's worse, they made a mummer's farce of it. He's not a man to put that aside. I warn you, the wolf and lion will soon be at each other's throats, whether we will it or no."
"Too soon, too soon," the voice with the accent complained. "What good is war now? We are not ready. Delay."
"As well bid me stop time. Do you take me for a wizard?"
The other chuckled. "No less."
(...)
"What would you have me do?" asked the torchbearer, a stout man in a leather half cape. Even in heavy boots, his feet seemed to glide soundlessly over ground. A round scarred face and a stubble of dark beard showed under his steel cap, and he wore mail over boiled leather, and a dirk and shortsword at his belt. It seemed to Arya there was something oddly familiar about him.
"If one Hand can die, why not a second?" replied the man with the accent and the forked yellow beard. "You have danced the dance before, my friend." (...)
"Before is not now, and this Hand is not the other," the scarred man said as they stepped out into the hall. (...)
"Perhaps so," the forked beard replied, pausing to catch his breath after the long climb.
"Nonetheless, we must have time. The princess is withThrones child. The Khal will not bestir himself until his son is born. You know how they are, these savages."
(...)
"If he does not bestir himself soon, it may be too late," the stout man in the steel cap said. "This is no longer a game for two players, if ever it was. Stannis Baratheon and Lysa Arryn have fled beyond my reach, and the whispers say they are gathering swords around them. The Knight of Flowers writes Highgarden, urging his lord father to send his sister to court. The girl is a maid of fourteen, sweet and beautiful and tractable, and Lord Renly and Ser Loras intend that Robert should bed her, wed her, and make a new queen. Littlefinger ... the gods only know what game Littlefinger is playing. Yet Lord Stark's the one who troubles my sleep. He has the bastard, he has the book, and soon enough he'll have the truth. And now his wife has abducted Tyrion Lannister, thanks to Littlefinger's meddling. Lord Tyrion will take that for an outrage, and Jaime has a queer affection for the Imp. If the Lannisters move north, that will bring the Tullys in as well. Delay, you say. Make haste, I reply. Even the finest of jugglers cannot keep a hundred balls in the air forever."
"You are more than a juggler, old friend. You are a true sorcerer. All I ask is that you work your magic awhile longer."
-- Arya

A Lannister always paid his debts.
-- Tyrion

Ser Rodrik shouted "Winterfell!" and rode to meet him, with Bronn and Chiggen beside him, screaming some wordless battle cry. Ser Willis Wode followed, swinging a spiked morningstar around his head. "Harrenhal! Harrenhal!" he sang. Tyrion felt a sudden urge to leap up, brandish his axe, and boom out, "Casterly Rock!" but the insanity passed quickly and he crouched down lower.
-- Tyrion

"Tell him that when you see him, milord, as it ... as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is."
"I will," Ned had promised her. That was his curse. Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows. He thought of the promises he'd made Lyanna as she lay dying, and the price he'd paid to keep them.
-- Eddard

[Clue]
He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood. In the dream his friends rode with him, as they had in life. Proud Martyn Cassel, Jory's father; faithful Theo Wull; Ethan Glover, who had been Brandon's squire; Ser Mark Ryswell, soft of speech and gentle of heart; the crannogman, Howland Reed; Lord Dustin on his great red stallion. Ned had known their faces as well as he knew his own once, but the years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget. In the dream they were only shadows, grey wraiths on horses made of mist.
They were seven, facing three. In the dream as it had been in life. Yet these were no ordinary three. They waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind. And these were no shadows; their faces burned clear, even now. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a sad smile on his lips. The hilt of the greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder. Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his white-enameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to them.
"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.
"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell.
"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."
"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."
"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."
"Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne.
"Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."
"Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell.
"But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee."
"Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.
"We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold.
Ned’s wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three.
"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.
"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends." As they came together in a rush of steel and shadow, he could hear Lyanna screaming. "Eddard!" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death.
"Lord Eddard," Lyanna called again.
"I promise," he whispered. "Lya, I promise."
-- Eddard

[personality]
"I was always strong ... no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can't hit them?" Confused, the king shook his head.
-- Eddard

Maester Aemon smiled. "And so?"
"The Night's Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn't make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won't either. You can't hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn't mean tin is useless. Why shouldn't Sam be a steward?"
-- Jon

Bronn snorted. "You have a bold tongue, little man. One day someone is like to cut it out and make you eat it."
"Everyone tells me that." Tyrion glanced up at the sellsword. "Did I offend you? My pardons ..."
-- Tyrion

"What do you want, Bronn? Gold? Land? Women? Keep me alive, and you'll have it."
Bronn blew gently on the fire, and the flames leapt up higher. "And if you die?"
"Why then, I'll have one mourner whose grief is sincere," Tyrion said, grinning. "The gold ends when I do."
-- Tyrion

[personality]
"After Jaime had made his confession, to drive home the lesson, Lord Tywin brought my wife in and gave her to his guards. They paid her fair enough. A silver for each man, how many whores command that high a price? he sat me down in the corner of the barracks and bade me watch, and at the end she had so many silvers the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling on the floor, she ..."
The smoke was stinging his eyes. Tyrion cleared his throat and turned away from fire, to gaze out into darkness. "Lord Tyrion had me go last," he said in a quiet voice. "And he gave me a gold coin to pay her, because I was a Lannister, and worth more."
After a time he heard the noise again, the rasp of steel on stone as Bronn sharpened his sword.
"Thirteen or thirty or three, I would have killed the man who did that to me."
Tyrion swung around to face him. "You may get that chance one day. Remember what I told you. A Lannister always pays his debts."
-- Tyrion

A king should never sit easy, Aegon the Conqueror had said, when he commanded his armorers to forge a great seat from the swords laid down by his enemies.
-- Eddard

"Rise," Ned commanded the villagers. He never trusted what a man told him from his knees.
-- Eddard

Lord Baelish stroked his little pointed beaerd and said, "Nothing? Tell me, child, why would you have sent Ser Loras?"
Sansa had no choice but to explain about heroes and monsters. The king's councillor smiled.
"Well, those are not the reasons I'd have given, but ..." He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow."
-- Sansa

Pycelle set a stoppered flask on the table by the bed. "The milk of the poppy, for when the pain grows too onerous."
"I sleep too much already."
"Sleep is the great healer."
"I had hoped that was you."
-- Eddard

"You should have taken the realm for yourself. It was there for the taking. Jaime told me how you found him on the Iron Throne the day King's Landing fell, and made him yield it up. That was your moment. All you needed to do was climb those steps, and sit. Such a sad mistake."
"I have made more mistakes than you can possibly imagine," Ned said, "but that was not one of them."
"Oh, but it was, my lord," Cersei insisted. "When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."
-- Eddard

[clue]
"Serve the boar at my funeral feast," Robert rasped. "Apple in its mouth, skin seared crisp. Eat the bastard. Don't care if you choke on him. Promise me, Ned."
"I promise." Promise me, Ned, Lyanna's voice echoed.
-- Eddard

[info]
Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.
-- Jon

Cersei smiled again, but that did not make her fell any less anxious. Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on.
-- Sansa

[personality]
Lord Tywin did not stir from his chair, but he did give his dwarf son a long, searching look. "I see that the rumors of your demise were unfounded."
"Sorry to disappoint you, Father," Tyrion said. "No need to leap up and embrace me, I wouldn't want you to strain yourself." He crossed the room to their table, acutely conscious of the way his stunted legs made him waddle with every step. Whenever his father's eyes were on him, he became uncomfortably aware of all his deformities and shortcomings.
-- Tyrion

"And this is Bronn, a sellsword of no particular allegiance. He has already changed sides twice in the short time I've known him, you and he ought to get on famously, Father."
-- Tyrion

"Ride with me against my enemies, and you shall have all my son promised you, and more." Lord Tywin told them.
"Would you pay us with our own coin?" Ulf son of Umar said. "Why should we need the father's promise, when we have the son's?"
"I said nothing of need," Lord Tywin replied. "My words were courtesy, nothing more. You need not join us. The men of the winterlands are made of iron and ice, and even my boldest knights fear to face them."
Oh, deftly done, Tyrion thought, smiling crookedly.
"The Burned Men fear nothing. Timett son of Timett will ride with the lions."
-- Tyrion

Ser Boros and Ser Meryn moved forward to confront him, but Ser Barristan froze them in place with a look that dripped contempt. "Have no fear, sers, your king is safe... no thanks to you. Even now, I could cut through the five of you as easy as a dagger cuts cheese. If you would serve under the Kingslayer, not a one of you is fit to wear the white." He flung his sword at the foot of the Iron Throne.
-- Sansa

The Hound's scarred face was hard to read. He took a long moment to consider. "Why not? I have no lands nor wife to forsake, and who'd care if I did?" The burned side of his mouth twisted. " But I warn you, I'll say no knight's vows."
"The Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard have always been knights," Ser Boros said firmly.
"Until now," the Hound said in his deep rasp, and Ser Boros fell silent.
-- Sansa

They taught me that each man has a role to play, in life as well as mummery. So it is at court. The King's Justice must be fearsome, the master of coin must be frugal, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be valiant... and the master of whisperers must be sly and obsequious and without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight.
-- Eddard, by Varys

[personality]
"If there was one soul in King's Landing who was truly desperate to keep Robert Baratheon alive, it was me." He sighed. "For fifteen years I protected him from his enemies, but I could not protect him from his friends. What strange fit of madness led you to tell the queen that you had learned the truth of Joffery's birth?"
"The madness of mercy," Ned admitted.
"Ah," said Varys. "To be sure. You are an honest and honorable man, Lord Eddard. Ofttimes I forget that. I have met so few of them in my life." He glanced around the cell. "When I see what honesty and honor have won you, I understand why."
-- Eddard

Lord Stannis in particular. His claim is the true one, he is known for his prowess as a battle commander, and he is utterly without mercy. There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man.
-- Eddard, by Varys

"Is this your own scheme," he gasped out at Varys, "or are you in league with Littlefinger?"
That seemed to amuse the eunuch. "I would sooner wed the Black Goat of Qohor. Littlefinger is the second most devious man in the Seven Kingdoms. Oh, I feed him choice whispers, sufficient so that he thinks I am his... just as I allow Cersei to believe I am hers."
"And just as you let me believe that you were mine. Tell me, Lord Varys, who do you truly serve?"
Varys smiled thinly. "Why, the realm, my good lord."
-- Eddard

Her father had once said of Walder Frey that he was the only lord in the Seven Kingdoms who could field an army out of his breeches.
-- Catelyn

[personality]
Ser Kevan leaned forward. "We had a thought to put you and your wildlings in the vanguard when we come to battle."
Ser Kevan seldom "had a thought" that Lord Tywin had not had first.
-- Tyrion

"The vanguard?" he repeated dubiously. Either his lord father had a new respect for Tyrion's abilities, or he's decided to rid himself of his embarrassing get for good. Tyrion had the gloomy feeling he knew which.
-- Tyrion

[personality]
"Who'd want to kill the likes of you?"
"My lord father, for one. He's put me in the van."
-- Tyrion

Her lord father had taught her never to steal, but it was growing harder to remember why.
-- Ayra

If I look back I am lost.
-- Daenerys

"When will he be as he was?" Dany demanded.
"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," said Mirri Maz Duur. "When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before."
-- Daenerys

"Tell me again what you saved."
"Your life."
Mirri Maz Duur laughed cruelly. "Look to your khal and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone."
-- Daenerys

Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well, that much he could do, at the least. "I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I'm not afraid to die."
"Nor live, I hope," Mormont said.
-- Jon

A Clash of Kings

[personality]
Even as a boy, Renly had loved bright colors and rich fabrics, and he had loved his games as well. "Look at me!" he would shout as he ran laughing through the halls of Storm's End. "Look at me, I'm a dragon," or "Look at me, I'm a wizard," or "Look at me, look at me, I'm the rain god."
The bold little boy with wild black hair and laughing eyes was a man grown now, one and twenty, and still he played his games. Look at me, I'm a king, Cressen thought sadly. Oh, Renly, Renly, dear sweet child, do you know what you are doing? And would you care if you did? Is there anyone who cares for him but me?
-- Cressen, prologue

When a maester donned his collar, he put aside the hope of children, yet Cressen had oft felt a father nonetheless. Robert, Stannis, Renly ... three sons he had raised after the angry sea claimed Lord Steffon. Had he done so ill that now he must watch one kill the other? He could not allow it, would not allow it.
-- Cressen, prologue

The night is dark and full of terrors.
-- Cressen, prologue, by Melisandre

"I am sorry for your loss as well, Joffrey," the dwarf said.
"What loss?"
"Your royal father? A large fiece man with a black beard, you'll recall him if you try. He was king before you."
"Oh, him. Yes, it was very sad, a boar killed him."
"Is that what 'they' say, Your Grace?"
Joffrey frowned. Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady's armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, "I'm sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord."
"A great many people are sorry for that," Tyrion replied, "and before I am done, some may be a deal sorrier... yet I thank you for the sentiment."
-- Sansa

"My father was a traitor," Sansa said at once. "And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well." That reflex she had learned quickly. "I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."
-- Sansa

[personality]
"Courage and folly are cousins, or so I've heard. Whatever curse may linger over the Tower of the Hand, I Pray I'm small enough to escape its notice."
-- Tyrion

"Now that he's king, he believes he should do as he pleases, not as he's bid."
"Crowns do queer things to the heads beneath them," Tyrion agreed.
-- Tyrion

"You'll think of me every time you go to bed. Then you'll get hard and you'll have no one to help you and you'll never be able to sleep unless you... " - she grinned that wicked grin Tyrion liked so well - "is that why they call it the Tower of the Hand, m'lord?"
-- Tyrion

She studied Theon Greyjoy's sly smile, wondering what it meant. That young man had a way of looking as though he knew some secret jest that only he was privy to. Catelyn had never liked it.
-- Catelyn

"Power is a curious thing, my lord. Perchance you have considered the riddle I posed you that day in the inn?"
"It has crossed my mind a time or two," Tyrion admitted. "The king, the priest, the rich man-who lives and who dies? Who will the swordsman obey? it's a riddle without an answer, or rather, too many answers. All depends on the man with the sword."
"And yet he is no one," Varys said. "He has neither crown nor gold nor favor of the gods, only a piece of pointed steel."
"That piece of steel is the power of life and death."
"Just so... yet if it is the swordsmen who rule us in truth, why do we pretend our kings hold the power? Why should a strong man with a sword ever obey a child king like Joffrey, or a wine-sodden oaf like his father?"
"Because these child kings and drunken oafs can call other strong men, with other swords."
"Then these other swordsmen have the true power. Or do they? Why do they obey?" Varys smiled. "Some say knowledge is power. Some tell us that all power comes from the gods. Others say it derives from law. Yet that day on the steps of Bealor's Sept, our godly High Septon and the lawful Queen Regent and your everso-knowledgeable servant were as powerless as any cobbler or cooper in the crowd. Who truly killed Eddard Stark do you think? Joffrey, who gave the command? Ser Ilyn Payne, who swung the sword? Or... another?"
Tyrion cocked his head sideways. "Did you mean to answer your damned riddle, or only to make my head ache worse?"
Varys smiled. "Here, then. Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less."
"So power is a mummer's trick?"
"A shadow on the wall," Varys murmured, "yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow."
Tyrion smiled. "Lord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I'd feel sad about it."
-- Tyrion

"Tell me, Bronn. If I told you to kill a babe... an infant girl, say, still at her mother's breast... would you do it? Without question?"
"Without question? No." The sellsword rubbed thumb and forefinger together. "I'd ask how much."
-- Tyrion

[personality]
His sons were good fighters and better sailors, but they did not know how to talk to lords. They were lowborn, even as I was, but they do not like to recall that. When they look at our banner, all they see is a tall black ship flying on the wind. They close their eyes to the onion.
-- Davos

The world is strange, Jon thought. Two hundred brave men had left the Wall, and the only one who was not growing more fearful was Sam, the self-confessed coward.
-- Jon

"And he dares to accuse me of incest, adultery, and treason!"
Only because you're guilty. It was astonishing to see how angry Cersei could wax over accusations she knew perfectly well to be true. If we lose the war, she ought to take up mummery, she has a gift for it.
-- Tyrion

[clue]
"That was when he brought his bastard to the Dreadfort. The boy is a sly creature by all accounts, and he has a servant who is almost as cruel as he is. Reek, they call the man."
-- Bran, by Lady Hornwood

[personality]
Tyrion cocked his head and gave the Grand Maester an inquiring stare.
Pycelle dropped his gaze back to his food. Something about Tyrion's mismatched green-and-black eyes made men squirm, knowing that, he made good use of them.
-- Tyrion

[personality]
Podrick Payne stood at the door of his solar, studying the floor. "He's inside," he announced to Tyrion's belt buckle. "Your solar. My lord. Sorry."
Tyrion sighed. "Look at me, pod. It unnerves me when you talk to my codpiece, especially when I'm not wearing one. Who is inside my solar?"
"Lord Littlefinger." Podrick managed a quick look at his face, then hastily dropped his eyes. "I meant, Lord Petyr. Lord Baelish. The master of coin."
"You make him sound a crowd." The boy hunched down as if struck, making Tyrion feel absurdly guilty.
-- Tyrion

"Prince Tommen is a good boy."
"If I pry him away from Cersei and Joffrey while he's still young, he may even grow to be a good man."
"And a good king?"
"Joffrey is king."
"And Tommen is heir, should anything ill befall His Grace."
-- Tyrion

[personality]
Ser Boros lifted his visor. "Ser, where-"
"Fuck your ser, Boros. You're the knight, not me. I'm the king's dog, remember?"
"The king was looking for his dog earlier."
"The dog was drinking."
-- Sansa

"Florian and Jonquil? A fool and his cunt. Spare me. But one day I'll have a song from you, whether you will it or no."
"I will sing it for you gladly."
Sandor Clegane snorted. "Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here... and every one better than you."
-- Sansa

[personality]
"How safe do you think Myrcella will be if King's Landing falls? Renly and Stannis will mount her head beside yours."
And Cersei began to cry.
Tyrion Lannister could not have been more astonished if Aegon the Conqueror himself had burst into the room, riding on a dragon and juggling lemon pies. He had not seen his sister weep since they were children together at Casterly Rock. Awkwardly, he took a step toward her. When your sister cries, you were supposed to confort her... but this was Cersei! He reached a tentative hand for her shoulder.
"Don't touch me," she said, wrenching away. It should not have hurt, yet it did, more than any slap.
-- Tyrion

Tyrion reflected on the men who had been Hand before him, who had proved no match for his sister's wiles. How could they be? Men like that... too honest to live, too noble to shit, Cersei devours such fools every morning when she breaks her fast. The only way to defeat my sister is to play her own game, and that was something the Lords Stark and Arryn would never do.
-- Tyrion

Chataya commiserated with him a moment, then excused herself and glided off. A handsome woman, Tyrion reflected as he watched her go. He had seldom seen such elegance and dignity in a whore. Though to be sure, she saw herself more as a kind of priestess. Perhaps that is the secret. It is not what we do, so much as why we do it. Somehow that thought comforted him.
-- Tyrion

[personality]
It took him only three days to earn the place of honor in her nightly prayers. "Weese," she would whisper, first of all. "Dunsen, Chiswyck, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei." If she let herself forget even one of them, how would she ever find him again to kill him?
-- Ayra

[personality]
"All this of snakes and incest is droll, but it changes nothing. You may well have the better claim, Stannis, but I still have the larger army." Renly's hand slid inside his cloak. Stannis saw, and reached at once for the hilt of his sword, but before he could draw steel his brother produced... a peach. "Would you like one, brother?" Renly asked, smiling. "From Highgarden."
-- Catelyn

[personality]
"This girl's to be your queen," the Imp told Joffrey. "Have you no regard for her honor?"
"I'm punishing her."
"For what crime? She did not fight her brother's battle."
"She has the blood of a wolf."
"And you have the wits of a goose."
"You can't talk to me that way. The king can do as he likes."
"Aerys Targaryen did as he liked. Has your mother ever told you what happened to him?"
Ser Boros Blount harrumphed. "No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard."
Tyrion Lannister raised an eyebrow. "I am not threatening the king, ser, I am educating my nephew. Bronn, Timett, the next time Ser Boros opens his mouth, kill him." The dwarf smiled. "Now that was a threat, ser. See the difference?"
-- Tyrion

"Each of the Seven embodies all of the Seven," Septon Osmynd had told her once. There was as much beauty in the Crone as in the Maiden, and the Mother could be fiecer than the Warrior when her children were in danger. Yes...
-- Catelyn

[info]
"I beg you in the name of the Mother," Catelyn began when a sudden gust of wind flung open the door of the tent. She thought she glimpsed movement, but when she turned her head, it was only the king's shadow shifting against the silken walls. She heard Renly begin a jest, his shadow moving, lifting its sword, black on green, candles guttering, shivering, something was queer, wrong, and then she saw Renly's sword still in its scabbard, sheathed still, but the shadow sword...
"Cold," said Renly in a small puzzled voice, a heartbeat before the steel of his gorget parted like cheesecloth beneath the shadow of a blade that was not there. He had time to make a small thick gasp before the blood came gushing out of his throat.
-- Catelyn

"A knight is what you want. A warg is what you are. You can't change that, Bran, you can't deny it or push it away. You are the winged wolf, but you will never fly." Jojen got up and walked to the window. "Unless you open your eye." He put two fingers together and poked Bran in the forehead, hard.
-- Bran

It was a few days after Alebelly's bath that Ser Rodrik returned to Winterfell with his prisoner, a fleshy young man with fat moist lips and long hair who smelled like a privy, even worse than Alebelly had. "Reek, he's called," Hayhead said when Bran asked who it was. "I never heard his true name. He served the Bastard of Bolton and helped him murder Lady Hornwood, they say." The Bastard himself was dead, Bran learned that evening over supper.
-- Bran

[personality]
The rest of his men were looting the corpses. Gevin Harlaw knelt on a dead man's chest, sawing off his finger to get a ring. Paying the iron price. My lord father would approve. Then thought of seeking out the bodies of the two men he'd slain himself to see if they had any jewelry worth the taking, but the notion left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could imagine what Eddard Stark would have said. Yet that thought made him angry too. Stark is dead and rotting, and naught to me, he reminded to himself.
-- Theon

Tallhart, you bloody overproud fool, you never even sent out a scout.
-- Theon, after he ambushed and killed Benfred Tallhart on the assault of the Stony Shore

"I will tell you true, Brienne. I do not know. My son may be a king, but I am no queen... only a mother who would keep her children safe, however she could."
"I am no made to be a mother. I need to fight."
-- Catelyn

[clue]
He thinks I'm Lysa, Catelyn realized. Gods be good, he talks as if we were not married yet.
Her father's hands clutched at hers, fluttering like two frightened white birds. "That stripling... wretched boy... not speak that name to me, your duty... your mother, she would..." Lord Hoster cried as a spasm of pain washed over him. "Oh, gods forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. My medicine..."
-- Catelyn

Dany's wrist still tingled where Quaithe had touched her. "Where would you have me go?" She asked.
"To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow."
Asshai, Dany thought. She would have me go to Asshai.
-- Daenerys

"Please, Your Grace, let him go," Sansa pleaded.
The king paid her no heed. "Bring me the man who flung that filth!" Joffrey commanded. "He'll lick it off me or I'll have his head. Dog, you bring him here!"
Obedient, Sandor Clegane swung down from his saddle, but there was no way through that wall of flesh, let alone to the roof. Those closest to him began to squirm and shove to get away, while others pushed forward to see. Tyrion smelled disaster. "Clegane, leave off, the man is long fled."
"I want him!" Joffrey pointed at the roof. "He was up there! Dog, cut through them and bring -"
A tumult of sound drowned his last words, a rolling thunder of rage and fear and hatred that engulfed them from all sides. "Bastard!" someone screamed at Joffrey, "bastard monster." Other voices flung calls of "Whore" and "Brotherfucker" at the queen, while Tyrion was pelted with shouts of "Freak" and "Halfman." Mixed in with the abuse, he heard a few cries of "Justice" and "Robb, King Robb, the Young Wolf," of "Stannis!" and even "Renly!" From both sides of the street, the crowd surged against the spear shafts while the gold cloaks struggled to hold the line. Stones and dung and fouler things whistled overhead. "Feed us!" a woman shrieked. "Bread!" boomed a man behind her.
"We want bread, bastard!" In a heartbeat, a thousand voices took up the chant. King Joffrey and King Robb and King Stannis were forgotten, and King Bread ruled alone. "Bread," they clamored. "Bread, bread!"
-- Tyrion

"We can lose all of Flea Bottom if we must, but on no account must the fire reach the Guildhall of the Alchemists, is that understood? Clegane, you'll go with him."
For half a heartbeat, Tyrion thought he glimpsed fear in the Hound's dark eyes. Fire, he realized.
The Others take me, of course he hates fire, he's tasted it too well. The look was gone in an instant, replaced by Clegane's familiar scowl. "I'll go," he said, "though not by your command. I need to find that horse."
-- Tyrion

The king pointed a finger at him. "I give you fair warning. If you force me to take my castle by storm, you may expect no mercy. I will hang you for traitors, every one of you."
"As the gods will it. Bring on your storm, my lord - and recall, if you do, the name of this castle."
-- Davos

[personality]
"It was a dream. I was in my tent when Renly died, and when I woke my hands were clean."
Ser Davos Seaworth could feel his phantom fingertips start to itch. Something is wrong here, the onetime smuggler thought. Yet he nodded and said, "I see."
"Renly offered me a peach. At our parley. Mocked me, defied me, threatened me, and offered me a peach. I thought he was drawing a blade and went for mine own. Was that his purpose, to make me show fear? Or was it one of his pointless jests? When he spoke of how sweet the peach was, did his words have some hidden meaning?" The king gave a shake of his head, like a dog shaking a rabbit to snap its neck. "Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach."
-- Davos

[clue]
"This Storm's End is an old place. There are spells woven into the stones. Dark walls that no shadow can pass - ancient, forgotten, yet still in place."
"Shadow?" Davos felt his flesh prickling. "A shadow is a thing of darkness."
"You are more ignorant than a child, ser Knight. There are no shadows in the dark. Shadows are the servants of light, the children of fire. The brightest flame casts the darkest shadows."
-- Davos

Tyrion lingered after his cousin had slipped away. At the warrior's altar, he used one candle to light another. Watch over my brother, you bloody bastard, he's one of yours. He lit a second candle to the Stranger, for himself.
-- Tyrion

"My sister will send one of the Kingsguard with the prince."
Bronn was not concerned. "The Hound is Joffrey's dog, he won't leave him. Ironhand's gold cloaks should be able to handle the others easy enough."
"If it comes to killing, tell Ser Jacelyn I won't have it done in front of Tommen." Tyrion donned a heavy cloak of dark brown wool. "My nephew is tenderhearted."
"Are you certain he's a Lannister?"
-- Tyrion

[personality]
The eunuch paused a moment. "My lord, you once asked me how it was that I was cut."
"I recall," said Tyrion. "You did not want to talk of it."
"Nor do I, but ..." This pause was longer than the one before, and when Varys spoke again his voice was different somehow. "I was an orphan boy apprenticed to a traveling folly. Our master owned a fat little cog and we sailed up and down the narrow sea performing in all the Free Cities and from time to time in Oldtown and King's Landing.
"One day at Myr, a certain man came to our folly. After the performance, he made an offer for me that my master found too tempting to refuse. I was in terror. I feared the man meant to use me as I had heard men used small boys, but in truth the only part of me he had need of was my manhood. He gave me a potion that made me powerless to move or speak, yet did nothing to dull my senses. With a long hooked blade, he sliced me root and stem, chanting all the while. I watched him burn my manly parts on a brazier. The flames turned blue, and I heard a voice answer his call, though I did not understand the words they spoke.
"The mummers had sailed by the time he was done with me. Once I had served his purpose, the man had no further interest in me, so he put me out. When I asked him what I should do now, he answered that he supposed I should die. To spite him, I resolved to live. I begged, I stole, and I sold what parts of my body still remained to me. Soon I was as good a thief as any in Myr, and when I was older I learned that often the contents of a man's letters are more valuable than the contents of his purse.
"Yet I still dream of that night, my lord. Not of the sorcerer, nor his blade, nor even the way my manhood shriveled as it burned. I dream of the voice. The voice from the flames. Was it a god, a demon, some conjurer's trick? I could not tell you, and I know all the tricks. All I can say for a certainty is that he called it, and it answered, and since that day I have hated magic and all those who practice it. If Lord Stannis is one such, I mean to see him dead."
-- Tyrion

[clue]
The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac.
"Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"
"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.
"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.
-- Daenerys

[clue]
"I have come for the gift of truth," Dany said. "In the long hall, the things I saw ... were they true visions, or lies? Past things, or things to come? What did they mean?"
... the shape of shadows ... morrows not yet made ... drink from the cup of ice ... drink from the cup of fire ... mother of dragons ... child of three ...
"Three?" She did not understand.
... three heads has the dragon ... the ghost chorus yammered inside her skull with never a lip moving, never a breath stirring the still blue air ... mother of dragons ... child of storm ... The whispers became a swirling song ... three fires must you light ... one for life and one for death and one to love ... Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt.
... three mounts must you ride ... one to bed and one to dread and one to love ... The voice were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath ... three treasons will you know ... once for blood and once for gold and once for love ...
-- Daenerys

"You don't suppose there are any dragons about, do you?"
"Not unless you found one under the Dragonpit. Why?"
"Oh, pardon, I was just remembering something old Wisdom Pollitor told me once, when I was an acolyte. I'd asked him why so many of our spells seemed, well, not as effectual as the scrolls would have us believe, and he said it was because magic had begun to go out of the world the day the last dragon died."
-- Tyrion

[personality]
"The wild is no place for a cripple. And Rickon, young as he is, how long will he last out there? Nan, think how frightened he must be."
The old woman had nattered at him for ten years, telling her endless stories, but now she gaped at him as if he were some stranger. "I might have killed every man of you and given your women to my soldiers for their pleasure, but instead I protected you. Is this the thanks you offer?" Joseth who'd groomed his horses, Farlen who'd taught him all he knew of hounds, Barth the brewer's wife who'd been his first - not one of them would meet his eyes. They hate me, he realized.
Reek stepped close. "Strip off their skins," he urged, his thick lips glistening. "Lord Bolton, he used to say a naked man has few secrets, but a flayed man's got none."
The flayed man was the sigil of House Bolton, Theon knew. Ages past, certain of their lords had gone so far as to cloak themselves in the skins of dead enemies. A number of Starks had ended thus.
Supposedly all that had stopped a thousand years ago, when the Boltons had bent their knees to Winterfell. Or so they say, but old ways die hard, as well I know.
-- Theon

[personality]
Theon had his bow; he needed nothing else. Once he had saved Bran's life with an arrow. He hoped he would not need to take it with another, but if it came to that, he would.
-- Theon

He looked contemptuously at the knights and sellswords who had ridden with Clegane. "They say I'm half a man," he said. "What does that make the lot of you?"
That shamed them well enough. A knight mounted, helmetless, and rode to join the others. A pair of sellswords followed. Then more. The King's Gate shuddered again. In a few moments the size of Tyrion's command had doubled. He had them trapped. If I fight, they must do the same, or they are less than dwarfs.
"You won't hear me shout out Joffrey's name," he told them. "You won't hear me yell for Casterly Rock either. This is your city Stannis means to sack, and that's your gate he's bringing down. So come with me and kill the son of a bitch!" Tyrion unsheathed his axe, wheeled the stallion around, and trotted toward the sally port. He thought they were following, but never dared to look.
-- Tyrion

The Lord of Casterly Rock made such an impressive figure that it was a shock when his destrier dropped a load of dung right at the base of the throne. Joffrey had to step gingerly around it as he descended to embrace his grandfather and proclaim him Savior of the City.
-- Sansa

"Sire, your councillors beg you, for the good of your realm, set Sansa Stark aside. The Lady Margaery will make you a far more suitable queen."
Like a pack of trained dogs, the lords and ladies in the hall began to shout their pleasure.
-- Sansa

[clue]
"You've waited so long, be patient awhile longer. Here, I have something for you." Set Dontos fumbled in his pouch and drew out a silvery spiderweb, dangling in between his thick of fingers.
It was a hair net of fine-spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net semmed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. "What stones are these?"
"Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight."
-- Sansa

Podrick Payne entered the bedchamber timid as a mouse. "My Lord?" He crept close to the bed.
How can a boy so bold in battle be so frightened in a sickroom?
-- Tyrion

[personality]
Ghost's muzzle was dripping red, but only the point of the bastard blade was stained, the last half inch. Jon pulled the direwolf away and knelt with one arm around him. The light was already fading in Qhorin's eyes. "... sharp," he said, lifting his maimed fingers. Then his hand fell, and he was gone.
He knew, he thouhgt numbly. He knew what they would ask of me.
He thought of Samwell Tarly then, of Grenn and Dolorous Edd, of Pyp and Toad back at Castle Black. Had he lost them all, as he had lost Bran and Rickon and Robb? Who was he now? What was he?
-- Jon

A Storm of Swords

[personality]
Tyrion rose on unsteady legs, closed his eyes for an instant as a wave of dizziness washed over him, and took a shaky step toward the door. Later, he would reflect that he should have taken a second, and then a third. Instead he turned. "What do I want, you ask? I'll tell you what I want. I want what is mine by rights. I want Casterly Rock."
His father's mouth grew hard. "Your brother's birthright?"
"The knights of the Kingsguard are forbidden to marry, to father children, and to hold land, you know that as well as I. The day Jaime put on that white cloak, he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock, but never once have you acknowledged it. It's past time. I want you to stand up before the realm and proclaim that I am your son and your lawful heir."
Lord Tywin's eyes were a pale green flecked with gold, as luminous as they were merciless.
"Casterly Rock," he declared in a flat cold dead tone. And then, "Never."
The word hung between them, huge, sharp, poisoned.
I knew the answer before I asked. Eighteen years since Jaime joined the Kingsguard, and I never once raised the issue. I must have known. I must always have known. "Why?" he made himself ask, though he knew he would rue the question.
"You ask that? You, who killed your mother to come into the world? You are an ill-made, devious, disobedient, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. Men's laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colors, since I cannot prove that you are not mine. To teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father's sigil and his father's before him. But neither gods nor men shall ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse."
-- Tyrion

Perhaps the invitation was no more than a simple kindness, an act of courtesy. It might be just a supper. But this was King's landing, this was the court of King Joffrey Baratheon, the First of His Name, and if there was one thing that Sansa Stark had learned here, it was mistrust.
-- Sansa