→ pre-asoiaf ladies who deserved better
Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. (…) She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.
A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They’re all liars here, and every one better than you. She wondered what had become of Sandor Clegane. (A Storm of Swords – Sansa VI)
“Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. The ‘wolf blood,’ my father used to call it.”
The End is near.
“I am the blood of the dragon,” she whispered aloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. “I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon.” The dragon was never afraid.
requested by @bynightafangirl
i’ve been ready to die for many years. if the lord was done with me, so be it, but he’s not.