Jaime Lannister’s inbox, circa Robert’s Rebellion. 

‘i should be calling you m’lady’

‘do not call me m’lady’

‘as m’lady commands’

annie-banks:

 #HATH NO ONE IN THIS BLOODLINE BORE WITNESS TO A CHICKEN

stabmeintheneck:

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

sovietcop:

try not to die; watch your back little bird

30 Days of ASOIAF: Day Fifteen | House or group you’d want to be a part of | House Martell

The rule was hers. Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered Robert’s drunken groping, Jaime’s jealousy, Renly’s mockery, Varys with his titters, Stannis endlessly grinding his teeth. She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn.
(A Feast for Crows)