Lord Littlefinger, on 29 April 2012 - 05:39 PM, said:
She was ahead of her time.
Posted 29 April 2012 - 05:43 PM
Posted 29 April 2012 - 05:45 PM
jarl the climber, on 29 April 2012 - 05:43 PM, said:
Posted 29 April 2012 - 05:47 PM
jarl the climber, on 29 April 2012 - 05:43 PM, said:
Edited by Lady Kraken, 29 April 2012 - 05:48 PM.
Posted 29 April 2012 - 05:51 PM
Posted 29 April 2012 - 05:56 PM
Posted 29 April 2012 - 05:57 PM
Posted 29 April 2012 - 05:59 PM
jarl the climber, on 29 April 2012 - 05:43 PM, said:
Posted 29 April 2012 - 06:04 PM
ARYa_Nym, on 29 April 2012 - 04:54 PM, said:
Edited by Sand Snake No. 9, 11 May 2012 - 08:29 PM.
Posted 29 April 2012 - 06:44 PM
Lord Littlefinger, on 29 April 2012 - 06:05 PM, said:
Posted 29 April 2012 - 06:58 PM
Sand Snake No. 9, on 29 April 2012 - 06:44 PM, said:
Posted 29 April 2012 - 08:11 PM
Sand Snake No. 9, on 29 April 2012 - 06:44 PM, said:
Posted 29 April 2012 - 09:02 PM
Posted 29 April 2012 - 09:50 PM
Lord Littlefinger, on 29 April 2012 - 08:11 PM, said:
Posted 29 April 2012 - 09:58 PM
Posted 29 April 2012 - 10:19 PM
Sand Snake No. 9, on 29 April 2012 - 06:44 PM, said:
Posted 29 April 2012 - 10:26 PM
Sand Snake No. 9, on 29 April 2012 - 09:50 PM, said:
“Aye,” said the Mad Huntsman, “and a kinder fate than you deserve for all your kind have done. Lions, you call yourselves. At Sherrer and the Mummer’s Ford, girls of six and seven years were raped, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched. No lion ever killed so cruel.”
“I was not at Sherrer, nor the Mummer’s Ford,” the Hound told him. “Lay your dead children at some other door.”
Thoros answered him. “Do you deny that House Clegane was built upon dead children? I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne. By rights your arms should bear two bloody infants in place of those ugly dogs.”
The Hound’s mouth twitched. “Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?”...
....“People,” said Lord Beric. “People great and small, young and old. Good people and bad people, who died on the points of Lannister spears or saw their bellies opened by Lannister swords.”
“It wasn’t my sword in their bellies. Any man who says it was is a bloody liar.”
“You serve the Lannisters of Casterly Rock,” said Thoros.
“Once. Me and thousands more. Is each of us guilty of the crimes of the others?” Clegane spat.
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“Your brother Jon asked it of me. And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things.” Tyrion Lannister placed a hand over his heart and grinned.
The serving wenches wore fine woolens and plush velvets, the Lord Captain did not fail to note. He took them for scullions dressed up in the clothes of Lady Hewett and her ladies, until Hotho told him they were Lady Hewett and her ladies. It amused the Crow’s Eye to make them wait and pour. There were eight of them: her ladyship herself, still handsome though grown somewhat stout, and seven younger women aged from twenty-five to ten, her daughters and good-daughters.
Lord Hewett himself sat in his accustomed place upon the dais, dressed in all his heraldic finery. His arms and legs had been tied to his chair, and a huge white radish shoved between his teeth so he could not speak... though he could see and hear. The Crow’s Eye had claimed the place of honor at his lordship’s right hand. A pretty, buxom girl of seventeen or eighteen years was in his lap, barefoot and disheveled, her arms around his neck. “Who is that?” Victarion asked the men around him.
“His lordship’s bastard daughter,” laughed Hotho. “Before Euron took the castle, she was made to wait at table on the rest and take her own meals with the servants.”
Euron put his blue lips to her throat, and the girl giggled and whispered something in his ear. Smiling, he kissed her throat again. Her white skin was covered with red marks where his mouth had been; they made a rosy necklace about her neck and shoulders. Another whisper in his ear, and this time the Crow’s Eye laughed aloud, then slammed his wine cup down for silence. “Good ladies,” he called out to his highborn serving women, “Falia is concerned for your fine gowns. She would not have them stained with grease and wine and dirty groping fingers, since I have promised that she may choose her own clothes from your wardrobes after the feast. So you had best disrobe.”
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Posted 29 April 2012 - 10:35 PM
Posted 29 April 2012 - 10:40 PM
Lord Littlefinger, on 29 April 2012 - 10:26 PM, said: