Mourning Star

Long term? Ravens to bring news, words darker than their wings, the ruin of their House, the death of their kin, disgrace and desolation. But I jest, once you behead Ned, worrying about pissing people off over a sword is sort of silly. I think the distinction I would make here is that the sword was given to Jon as a reward for service, rather than inheritance, for merit rather than blood right.

Friendly reminder that the Valyrian Steel Sword Ice may just be a stand in, or replacement, for some older weapon of House Stark. She could see the rippling deep within the steel, where the metal had been folded back on itself a hundred times in the forging. Catelyn had no love for swords, but she could not deny that Ice had its own beauty. It had been forged in Valyria, before the Doom had come to the old Freehold, when the ironsmiths had worked their metal with spells as well as hammers. Four hundred years old it was, and as sharp as the day it was forged. The name it bore was older still, a legacy from the age of heroes, when the Starks were Kings in the North. A Game of Thrones - Catelyn I One might argue that the breaking of the Valyrian Steel Sword Ice represents the breaking of the Valyrian rule of House Stark, and the return of the Kings in the North.

The Kettleblacks don't appear until Clash of Kings, but it's hard to ignore that connection. "Certainly, if such is your wish. However, you had best know that your sister means to name Ser Gregor Clegane as her champion, in the event of such a trial." The bitch checks my moves before I make them. A pity she didn't choose a Kettleblack. Bronn would make short work of any of the three brothers, but the Mountain That Rides was a kettle of a different color. "I shall need to sleep on this." There is also a Robin Potter in Feast. Brienne curled up beneath her cloak, with Podrick yawning at her side. I was not always wary, she might have shouted down at Crabb. When I was a little girl I believed that all men were as noble as my father. Even the men who told her what a pretty girl she was, how tall and bright and clever, how graceful when she danced. It was Septa Roelle who had lifted the scales from her eyes. "They only say those things to win your lord father's favor," the woman had said. "You'll find truth in your looking glass, not on the tongues of men." It was a harsh lesson, one that left her weeping, but it had stood her in good stead at Harrenhal when Ser Hyle and his friends had played their game. A maid has to be mistrustful in this world, or she will not be a maid for long, she was thinking, as the rain began to fall. In the mêlée at Bitterbridge she had sought out her suitors and battered them one by one, Farrow and Ambrose and Bushy, Mark Mullendore and Raymond Nayland and Will the Stork. She had ridden over Harry Sawyer and broken Robin Potter's helm, giving him a nasty scar. And when the last of them had fallen, the Mother had delivered Connington to her. This time Ser Ronnet held a sword and not a rose. Every blow she dealt him was sweeter than a kiss. Loras Tyrell had been the last to face her wroth that day. He'd never courted her, had hardly looked at her at all, but he bore three golden roses on his shield that day, and Brienne hated roses. The sight of them had given her a furious strength. She went to sleep dreaming of the fight they'd had, and of Ser Jaime fastening a rainbow cloak about her shoulders. House Spicer has three black pepperpots on their sigil. Robb beckoned the other strangers forward, each in turn. "Ser Rolph Spicer, Lady Sybell's brother. He was castellan at the Crag when we took it." The pepperpot knight inclined his head. All of these three are examples of lies and betrayals. From the Kettleblacks working for Cersei/Tyrion/Littlefinger, to Robin's false words to Brienne, to the Red Wedding. But, while we are speaking of pots and kettles, this scene also stands out to me: "Well, that's so," said Yarwyck. "Anyway, now that I'm standing here, I don't recall why I thought Slynt would be such a good choice. That would be sort of kicking King Stannis in the mouth, and I don't see how that serves us. Might be Snow would be better. He's been longer on the Wall, he's Ben Stark's nephew, and he served the Old Bear as squire." Yarwyck shrugged. "Pick who you want, just so it's not me." He sat down. Janos Slynt had turned from red to purple, Jon saw, but Ser Alliser Thorne had gone pale. The Eastwatch man was pounding his fist on the table again, but now he was shouting for the kettle. Some of his friends took up the cry. "Kettle!" they roared, as one. "Kettle, kettle, KETTLE!" The kettle was in the corner by the hearth, a big black potbellied thing with two huge handles and a heavy lid. Maester Aemon said a word to Sam and Clydas and they went and grabbed the handles and dragged the kettle over to the table. A few of the brothers were already queueing up by the token barrels as Clydas took the lid off and almost dropped it on his foot. With a raucous scream and a clap of wings, a huge raven burst out of the kettle. It flapped upward, seeking the rafters perhaps, or a window to make its escape, but there were no rafters in the vault, nor windows either. The raven was trapped. Cawing loudly, it circled the hall, once, twice, three times. And Jon heard Samwell Tarly shout, "I know that bird! That's Lord Mormont's raven!" The raven landed on the table nearest Jon. "Snow," it cawed. It was an old bird, dirty and bedraggled. "Snow," it said again, "Snow, snow, snow." It walked to the end of the table, spread its wings again, and flew to Jon's shoulder. Lord Janos Slynt sat down so heavily he made a thump, but Ser Alliser filled the vault with mocking laughter. "Ser Piggy thinks we're all fools, brothers," he said. "He's taught the bird this little trick. They all say snow, go up to the rookery and hear for yourselves. Mormont's bird had more words than that." The raven cocked its head and looked at Jon. "Corn?" it said hopefully. When it got neither corn nor answer, it quorked and muttered, "Kettle? Kettle? Kettle?" The rest was arrowheads, a torrent of arrowheads, a flood of arrowheads, arrowheads enough to drown the last few stones and shells, and all the copper pennies too.

Some permutation of "the crow calls the raven black" is used in every book of the series and in Dunk and Egg. "I hope not. I'm sick of looking at those ears of yours." "Ho," said Pyp. "Listen to the crow call the raven black. You're certain to be a ranger, Toad. They'll want you as far from the castle as they can. If Mance Rayder attacks, lift your visor and show your face, and he'll run off screaming." A Game of Thrones - Jon V "You are a cruel man, to make the Grand Maester squirm so," the eunuch scolded. "The man cannot abide a secret." "Is that a crow I hear, calling the raven black? Or would you sooner not hear what I've proposed to Doran Martell?" Varys giggled. "Perhaps my little birds have told me." A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IV "Once they were mighty," Xaro agreed, "but now they are as ludicrous as those feeble old soldiers who boast of their prowess long after strength and skill have left them. They read their crumbling scrolls, drink shade-of-the-evening until their lips turn blue, and hint of dread powers, but they are hollow husks compared to those who went before. Pyat Pree's gifts will turn to dust in your hands, I warn you." He gave his camel a lick of his whip and sped away. "The crow calls the raven black," muttered Ser Jorah in the Common Tongue of Westeros. The exile knight rode at her right hand, as ever. For their entrance into Qarth, he had put away his Dothraki garb and donned again the plate and mail and wool of the Seven Kingdoms half a world away. "You would do well to avoid both those men, Your Grace." A Clash of Kings - Daenerys II "Littlefinger is a liar—" "—and black as well, said the raven of the crow." Lord Tywin slammed his hand down on the table. "Enough! I will have no more of this unseemly squabbling. You are both Lannisters, and will comport yourselves as such." A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III "I saw him perhaps a dozen times . . . from afar most often, standing with his brothers or riding in some tourney. But every man in the Seven Kingdoms knew Barristan the Bold." He laid the point of his sword against the old man's neck. "Khaleesi, before you kneels Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who betrayed your House to serve the Usurper Robert Baratheon." The old knight did not so much as blink. "The crow calls the raven black, and you speak of betrayal." A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V "You are welcome to try. Until such time you must mistrust them all . . . and a little mistrust is a good thing in a princess." Prince Doran sighed. "You disappoint me, Arianne." "Said the crow to the raven. You have been disappointing me for years, Father." She had not meant to be so blunt with him, but the words came spilling out. There, now I have said it. "I know. I am too meek and weak and cautious, too lenient to our enemies. Just now, though, you are in need of some of that leniency, it seems to me. You ought to be pleading for my forgiveness rather than seeking to provoke me further." A Feast for Crows - The Princess In The Tower "Go," the Reader had urged, as the captains were bearing her uncle Euron down Nagga's hill to don his driftwood crown. "Said the raven to the crow. Come with me. I need you to raise the men of Harlaw." Back then, she'd meant to fight. "The men of Harlaw are here. The ones who count. Some were shouting Euron's name. I will not set Harlaw against Harlaw." A Dance with Dragons - The Wayward Bride "I suppose that means I'll have to take the throne, then. I would much rather be teaching you to fiddle." "You're drunk." And the crow once called the raven black. "Wonderfully drunk. Wine makes all things possible, Ser Duncan. You'd look a god in white, I think, but if the color does not suit you, perhaps you would prefer to be a lord?" Dunk laughed in his face. "No, I'd sooner sprout big blue wings and fly. One's as likely as t'other." The Mystery Knight

I mean sure, Tyrosh or Dorne, but it not being Braavos would be a pretty massive plot point. At that point Dany’s past isn’t what she believes and we are just speculating as to the details of the truth. Dany’s old guardian’s sickness is described as “the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor” in contrast to Aemon’s time sick in Braavos where they can’t keep him warm. I don’t think any one detail is proof positive of anything, and independently they can all be explained away. However taken together, along with the rest of the story, and I can’t help but believe it’s intentional and there is more going on here than meets the eye.

"Lemons. And where would we get lemons? Does this look like Dorne to you, you freckled fool? Why don't you hop out back to the lemon trees and pick us a bushel, and some nice olives and pomegranates too." And I would add… Lem, is that you? Still wearing the same ratty cloak, are you? I know why you never wash it, I do. You're afraid all the piss will wash out and we'll see you're really a knight o' the Kingsguard! But seriously, I think the lemons are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the discrepancies. Stone blocks being torn from the walls of Dragonstone to sink a fleet when Dragonstone isn’t made of stone blocks. Usurpers knives that never existed. Moonlit flights to Dragonstone when Rhaella left in the morning. Remembering sailing into Braavos… it’s more than just lemon trees. Within, you will see many things that disturb you. Visions of loveliness and visions of horror, wonders and terrors. Sights and sounds of days gone by and days to come and days that never were.

I not sure this is true about her being named heir. In Dany’s first chapter she is called the Princess of Dragonstone, the heir’s traditional title. "King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister, Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone. His honorable host, Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of the Free City of Pentos."

I agree with a lot of the sentiment here about Aegon, but I wasn’t reminded of Dany by Varys’s monologue, I was reminded of Jon. "I know what I swore." Jon said the words. "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. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?" "They were. As the lord commander knows." "Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?" Jon waited for an answer. None came. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?"

This may be a stretch, but I would suggest that a sheepskin can indicate a secret identity or disguise. Arya reentered Kingspyre the same way she had left it, and stole up the winding steps listening for footfalls. In her cell, she stripped to the skin and dressed herself carefully, in two layers of smallclothes, warm stockings, and her cleanest tunic. It was Lord Bolton's livery. On the breast was sewn his sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. She tied her shoes, threw a wool cloak over her skinny shoulders, and knotted it under her throat. Quiet as a shadow, she moved back down the stairs. Outside the lord's solar she paused to listen at the door, easing it open slowly when she heard only silence. The sheepskin map was on the table, beside the remains of Lord Bolton's supper. She rolled it up tight and thrust it through her belt. He'd left his dagger on the table as well, so she took that too, just in case Gendry lost his courage. Arya here is obviously in disguise, but my favorite example is Jon's sheepskin cloak during his time with the Wildlings, making him a wolf in sheep's clothing. Jon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested. It kept the snow off well enough, and at night it was good and warm, but he kept his black cloak as well, folded up beneath his saddle. But, I think there are some other good examples too. She did not know where she was. The air was cold and heavy, and smelled of earth and worms and mold. She was lying on a pallet beneath a mound of sheepskins, with rock above her head and roots poking through the walls. The only light came from a tallow candle, smoking in a pool of melted wax. She pushed aside the sheepskins. Someone had stripped her of her clothes and armor, she saw. She was clad in a brown woolen shift, thin but freshly washed. Brienne looks to her captors to be an agent of the Lannisters, but that is hardly the whole truth. On the wall hung a sheepskin with a map of the north painted across it in faded colors. Beneath the map sat Wyman Manderly, the colossal Lord of White Harbor. Wyman is pretending to be a committed ally of the Lannisters and Boltons, but the North remembers. The Freefolk children given as hostages to Jon. Two stewards counted the boys as they went by, noting each name on long sheepskin scrolls. A third collected their valuables for the toll and wrote that down as well. The boys were going to a place that none had ever been before, to serve an order that had been the enemy of their kith and kin for thousands of years, yet Jon saw no tears, heard no wailing mothers. These are winter's people, he reminded himself. Tears freeze upon your cheeks where they come from. Not a single hostage balked or tried to slink away when his turn came to enter that gloomy tunnel. Only a few paragraphs later: Two of the boys were girls in disguise. And then of course there are some examples which makes one wonder... Instead they struck off toward the northwest, following the shore of the Bay of Crabs on a crooked track so small that it did not appear on either of Ser Hyle's precious sheepskin maps. Her proper name was Alysane of House Mormont, but she wore the other name as easily as she wore her mail. Short, chunky, muscular, the heir to Bear Island had big thighs, big breasts, and big hands ridged with callus. Even in sleep she wore ringmail under her furs, boiled leather under that, and an old sheepskin under the leather, turned inside out for warmth. All those layers made her look almost as wide as she was tall. And ferocious. Sometimes it was hard for Asha Greyjoy to remember that she and the She-Bear were almost of an age. "In the dark the dead are dancing." Patchface shuffled his feet in a grotesque dance step. "I know, I know, oh oh oh." At Eastwatch someone had sewn him a motley cloak of beaver pelts, sheepskins, and rabbit fur. His hat sported antlers hung with bells and long brown flaps of squirrel fur that hung down over his ears. Every step he took set him to ringing. Brown Ben's note was the last. That one had been inscribed upon a sheepskin scroll. And a final two part example that I find particularly interesting: Craster's sheepskin jerkin and cloak of sewn skins made a shabby contrast, but around one thick wrist was a heavy ring that had the glint of gold. His sleeping pelts and woolen smallclothes, his sheepskin boots and fur-lined gloves, his store of mead and hoarded food, the hanks of hair he took from the women he bedded, even the golden arm rings Mance had given him, all lost and left behind.

If I'm going to extrapolate on the idea above, I would say that the Lands of the Trident, and their colors, represent the world of mankind. Red civilization, green wilderness, and blue water. I think we see this trio repeated many times together. It was nice under the trees. Bran kept Dancer to a walk, holding the reins lightly and looking all around him as they went. He knew this wood, but he had been so long confined to Winterfell that he felt as though he were seeing it for the first time. The smells filled his nostrils; the sharp fresh tang of pine needles, the earthy odor of wet rotting leaves, the hints of animal musk and distant cooking fires. There are many different ways and proportions to mix these things, but I think the key is that man requires all of them, and any one in the extreme or lacking any one of them completely means death. No life was certain. Catelyn was content to wait, to listen to the whispers in the woods and the faint music of the brook, to feel the warm wind in her hair. I'm sure there are many good quotes that show individual examples, here are a few I like: "All men are made of water, do you know this? When you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die." They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life, and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them "It's been a bad year for wolves," volunteered a sallow man in a travel-stained green cloak. "Around the Gods Eye, the packs have grown bolder'n anyone can remember. Sheep, cows, dogs, makes no matter, they kill as they like, and they got no fear of men. It's worth your life to go into those woods by night." One might even make the case that all magic in ASoIaF comes from one of these extremes and as such is inimical to the survival of mankind.

"The maid's a fair one," Osha said. "Robert was betrothed to marry her, but Prince Rhaegar carried her off and raped her," Bran explained. "Robert fought a war to win her back. He killed Rhaegar on the Trident with his hammer, but Lyanna died and he never got her back at all." "A sad tale," said Osha, "but those empty holes are sadder." Probably already mentioned somewhere, but, I think this could be read as a cute pun, the holes in the story are sadder!

I'm a little late to the party, and this is kind of basic, but I don't think I saw it quoted in the thread... A large ragged sheepskin was tossed across the papers. Arya had started to roll it up when the colors caught her eye: the blue of lakes and rivers, the red dots where castles and cities could be found, the green of woods. She spread it out instead. THE LANDS OF THE TRIDENT, said the ornate script beneath the map. The drawing showed everything from the Neck to the Blackwater Rush. Arya gives us a nice analogy here, with the map of the lands of the Trident, what amounts to the center of Westeros, being painted in the red, blue and green ink, on the inside of a sheepskin, extending from the "Neck" to the "Blackwater Rush". The lands of the Trident, in all their colors, is one animal, from neck to ass! The individual colors may represent aspects of the land, or of life, but it takes all the colors to make the whole. "If ice can burn," said Jojen in his solemn voice, "then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one." "One," his sister agreed, "but over wrinkled."

I'm inclined to agree with you, but obviously we can't actually know what Robert said off page. I would point out that, as you said, Cersei does essentially say this, but it's worth noting that Joff was not present at that breakfast, he was in the yard and Tyrion sent him to give his condolences to the Starks. Also, on Robert's attitude at the time: "Breaking fast with the queen." "Ah," Tyrion said. He gave Sandor Clegane a perfunctory nod and walked away as briskly as his stunted legs would carry him, whistling. He pitied the first knight to try the Hound today. The man did have a temper. A cold, cheerless meal had been laid out in the morning room of the Guest House. Jaime sat at table with Cersei and the children, talking in low, hushed voices. "Is Robert still abed?" Tyrion asked as he seated himself, uninvited, at the table. His sister peered at him with the same expression of faint distaste she had worn since the day he was born. "The king has not slept at all," she told him. "He is with Lord Eddard. He has taken their sorrow deeply to heart." "He has a large heart, our Robert," Jaime said with a lazy smile. There was very little that Jaime took seriously. Tyrion knew that about his brother, and forgave it. During all the terrible long years of his childhood, only Jaime had ever shown him the smallest measure of affection or respect, and for that Tyrion was willing to forgive him most anything.

We don't know exactly how much silver was in Mance's bag when he went over the Wall. "It's good to know my son's life was not sold cheaply," Catelyn said bitterly. For some reason I think the suggestion that Mance was too poor is hysterical, he commands an army of thousands but can't afford one killer? I was not ranking threats to Mance or anyone else, nor suggesting hypothetical assassination targets. I was comparing sections of text that I think are similar in both meaning and language used. I wouldn't rank Shireen high among threats to anyone either. This was in regards to Mance's willingness to target Bran, a child, not the choice of target. Suggest whatever hypotheticals you want, the attempt on Bran demonstrably worked out in Mance's favor. The Lord of Winterfell is dead, and his heir has marched his strength south to fight the Lannisters. The wildlings may never again have such a chance as this. I knew Mance Rayder, Jon. He is an oathbreaker, yes . . . but he has eyes to see, and no man has ever dared to name him faintheart. He does not come to the conclusion independently. He asks Cersei if she did it first. He's under the false assumption that Tyrion killed Joff, assumes this was the motive, and uses that as his confirmation. I'm not ashamed of loving you, only of the things I've done to hide it. That boy at Winterfell . . ." "Did I tell you to throw him out the window? If you'd gone hunting as I begged you, nothing would have happened. But no, you had to have me, you could not wait until we returned to the city." "I'd waited long enough. I hated watching Robert stumble to your bed every night, always wondering if maybe this night he'd decide to claim his rights as husband." Jaime suddenly remembered something else that troubled him about Winterfell. "At Riverrun, Catelyn Stark seemed convinced I'd sent some footpad to slit her son's throat. That I'd given him a dagger." "That," she said scornfully. "Tyrion asked me about that." "There was a dagger. The scars on Lady Catelyn's hands were real enough, she showed them to me. Did you . . . ?" "Oh, don't be absurd." Cersei closed the window. "Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best. 'We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children,' he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink." Robert? Jaime had guarded the king long enough to know that Robert Baratheon said things in his cups that he would have denied angrily the next day. "Were you alone when Robert said this?" "You don't think he said it to Ned Stark, I hope? Of course we were alone. Us and the children." Cersei removed her hairnet and draped it over a bedpost, then shook out her golden curls. "Perhaps Myrcella sent this man with the dagger, do you think so?" It was meant as mockery, but she'd cut right to the heart of it, Jaime saw at once. "Not Myrcella. Joffrey." Cersei frowned. "Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him. He was only a child himself." "A child hungry for a pat on the head from that sot you let him believe was his father." He had an uncomfortable thought. "Tyrion almost died because of this bloody dagger. If he knew the whole thing was Joffrey's work, that might be why . . ." And again, Cersei says that Bran was nothing to Joff, which is also what Joff said. "At least he dies quietly," the prince replied. "It's the wolf that makes the noise. I could scarce sleep last night." - "The Stark boy is nothing to me," Joffrey said. I just don't find the argument, that the crucial artifact the plot revolves around was simply a poorly conceived plot device, to be a convincing argument. "All we have is conjecture. This is the queen's beloved brother we mean to accuse. She will not take it kindly. We must have proof, or forever keep silent."

After Bran fell, since it makes no sense for it to have been planned before that. They were out hunting when Bran fell. Although not Tyrion, who also wasn't sleeping, but spending his nights in the Winterfell Library, which I'm suggesting was the original target. And a possible reason for Mance to wait until they had gone. When the direwolf howled again, Tyrion shut the heavy leather-bound cover on the book he was reading, a hundred-year-old discourse on the changing of the seasons by a long-dead maester. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. His reading lamp was flickering, its oil all but gone, as dawn light leaked through the high windows. He had been at it all night, but that was nothing new. Tyrion Lannister was not much a one for sleeping. I would suggest that Mance did not come alone. In fact I'm not aware of any other example of a wildling scaling the Wall alone. We get a first hand account from Jon of wildlings climbing the Wall, they used ropes to tie themselves together as a precaution against one falling. The Others take them all, thought Jon, as he watched them scramble up the steep slope of the ridge and vanish beneath the trees. It would not be the first time wildlings had scaled the Wall, not even the hundred and first. The patrols stumbled on climbers two or three times a year, and rangers sometimes came on the broken corpses of those who had fallen. Along the east coast the raiders most often built boats to slip across the Bay of Seals. In the west they would descend into the black depths of the Gorge to make their way around the Shadow Tower. But in between the only way to defeat the Wall was to go over it, and many a raider had. Fewer come back, though, he thought with a certain grim pride. Climbers must of necessity leave their mounts behind, and many younger, greener raiders began by taking the first horses they found. Then a hue and cry would go up, ravens would fly, and as often as not the Night's Watch would hunt them down and hang them before they could get back with their plunder and stolen women. Jarl would not make that mistake, Jon knew, but he wondered about Styr. The Magnar is a ruler, not a raider. He may not know how the game is played. "There they are," Ygritte said, and Jon glanced up to see the first climber emerge above the treetops. It was Jarl. He had found a sentinel tree that leaned against the Wall, and led his men up the trunk to get a quicker start. The wood should never have been allowed to creep so close. They're three hundred feet up, and they haven't touched the ice itself yet. He watched the wildling move carefully from wood to Wall, hacking out a handhold with short sharp blows of his ice axe, then swinging over. The rope around his waist tied him to the second man in line, still edging up the tree. Step by slow step, Jarl moved higher, kicking out toeholds with his spiked boots when there were no natural ones to be found. When he was ten feet above the sentinel, he stopped upon a narrow icy ledge, slung his axe from his belt, took out his hammer, and drove an iron stake into a cleft. The second man moved onto the Wall behind him while the third was scrambling to the top of the tree. What Mance needs is a war south of the Wall, not just Ned in King's Landing where he could come back to Winterfell if needed. In fact, Ned did intend to return to Winterfell, until Cat took Tyrion captive because of the assassination attempt on Bran, sparking Jaimie's attack, and Ned's attempt at his version of mercy. As Tyrion suggests, the dagger in question was likely in the baggage train, which Mance fell in with before arriving in Winterfell. And as Tyrion suggests Joff probably just took it, I'm suggesting Mance probably just took it. To be fair, nothing about Mance's secret visit was easy or without risk. Mance gathers the Wildlings in the Frostfangs after his return from Winterfell. I think it's also worth pointing out that Mance says he met Dalla on his return from Winterfell, and her sister Val shares the same eye and hair color as that of the assassin, both with bony faces. Mance took her by the hand and pulled her close. "My lady is blameless. I met her on my return from your father's castle. Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. "He always climbed too fast." She was as fair as he'd remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist. He was a small, dirty man in filthy brown clothing, and he stank of horses. Catelyn knew all the men who worked in their stables, and he was none of them. He was gaunt, with limp blond hair and pale eyes deep-sunk in a bony face, and there was a dagger in his hand. Fair enough.

I'm sorry, I do not understand what you are trying to say here. Why would a freefolk admonish Theon? This seems to me a lot like questioning why Ned would look so poorly on Jaime for killing Aerys. It was because of being a turncloak, and in Theon's case a kinslayer (but we and him know not really), not for killing an enemy. It's due to a sense of honor. "You killed a boy as well." "That was not us. I told you." "Words are wind." They are no better than me. We're just the same. "You killed the others, why not him? Yellow Dick—" "—stank as bad as you. A pig of a man." "And Little Walder was a piglet. Killing him brought the Freys and Manderlys to dagger points, that was cunning, you—" "Not us." Rowan grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back against the barracks wall, her face an inch from his. "Say it again and I will rip your lying tongue out, kinslayer." He smiled through his broken teeth. "You won't. You need my tongue to get you past the guards. You need my lies." Rowan spat in his face. Then she let him go and wiped her gloved hands on her legs, as if just touching him had soiled her. Theon knew he should not goad her. In her own way, this one was as dangerous as Skinner or Damon Dance-for-Me. But he was cold and tired, his head was pounding, he had not slept in days. "I have done terrible things … betrayed my own, turned my cloak, ordered the death of men who trusted me … but I am no kinslayer." "Stark's boys were never brothers to you, aye. We know." That was true, but it was not what Theon had meant. They were not my blood, but even so, I never harmed them. The two we killed were just some miller's sons. Theon did not want to think about their mother. He had known the miller's wife for years, had even bedded her. Big heavy breasts with wide dark nipples, a sweet mouth, a merry laugh. Joys that I will never taste again. But there was no use telling Rowan any of that. She would never believe his denials, any more than he believed hers. "There is blood on my hands, but not the blood of brothers," he said wearily. "And I've been punished." "Not enough." Rowan turned her back on him. Foolish woman. He might well be a broken thing, but Theon still wore a dagger. It would have been a simple thing to slide it out and drive it down between her shoulder blades. That much he was still capable of, missing teeth and broken teeth and all. It might even be a kindness—a quicker, cleaner end than the one she and her sisters would face when Ramsay caught them. Reek might have done it. Would have done it, in hopes it might please Lord Ramsay. These whores meant to steal Ramsay's bride; Reek could not allow that. But the old gods had known him, had called him Theon. Ironborn, I was ironborn, Balon Greyjoy's son and rightful heir to Pyke. The stumps of his fingers itched and twitched, but he kept his dagger in its sheath. When Squirrel returned, the other four were with her: gaunt grey-haired Myrtle, Willow Witch-Eye with her long black braid, Frenya of the thick waist and enormous breasts, Holly with her knife. Clad as serving girls in layers of drab grey roughspun, they wore brown woolen cloaks lined with white rabbit fur. No swords, Theon saw. No axes, no hammers, no weapons but knives. Holly's cloak was fastened with a silver clasp, and Frenya had a girdle of hempen rope wound about her middle from her hips to breasts. It made her look even more massive than she was. Myrtle had servant's garb for Rowan. "The yards are crawling with fools," she warned them. "They mean to ride out." "Kneelers," said Willow, with a snort of contempt. "Their lordly lord spoke, they must obey." "They're going to die," chirped Holly, happily. "Them and us," said Theon. "Even if we do get past the guards, how do you mean to get Lady Arya out?" Holly smiled. "Six women go in, six come out. Who looks at serving girls? We'll dress the Stark girl up as Squirrel." Squirrel answered for herself. "Out a window, and straight down to the godswood. I was twelve the first time my brother took me raiding south o' your Wall. That's where I got my name. My brother said I looked like a squirrel running up a tree. I've done that Wall six times since, over and back again. I think I can climb down some stone tower." "Happy, turncloak?" Rowan asked. "Let's be about it." We can see both their contempt for Theon, and the "kneelers" on display. Edit: Once again I would point to this quote from Game of Thrones: In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile.

I think killing Ned or Robb is harder than a cripple in a coma. Don't you think Mance would kill them given the opportunity? It seems to me that they would likely kill him. Again, my point was that it's a comparison to being willing to kill a child who is "already dead" as a "mercy". But, to add to this, don't you think that a Stark child growing up is a deadly threat to Mance (a deserter) and the freefolk trying to invade the realm in the future? Because that would seem comparable to the deadly threat of a dormant disease in a child as well. Not the same, not one to one, but comparable.

Again, I don’t think this line of thinking is in isolation. Bran is also a Stark, a bloodline that has been the enemy of the freefolk for thousands of years. More importantly, I’m suggesting the entire assassination attempt was a means to an end, it caused dissension south of the wall, giving the freefolk the best chance to invade possibly since the Wall was first raised. And it covered for the destruction of the library. I also think that one being willing to kill a child as a means to an end is a litmus test for morality in the series, and a recurring theme. We see many characters whom I would not describe as nasty, who would be willing to, for the right cause. I not only do not object to disagreement, I welcome it. For instance you are looking for meaningful quotes to refute my case, and I applaud the effort, it’s not only helpful in refining an understanding of the literature, it’s even more importantly entertaining! As for phrasing, I’m certainly closer to an arsehole than a saint myself. I think the case for Mance having sent the catspaw in the text is significantly stronger than that for Joff and stands up to scrutiny.

All good, it happens. Jon being willing to take the wildling cripples after a battle doesn't say much about the wildlings themselves. But I'm not claiming that there has never been a wildling cripple. I was making a comparison to the logic behind calling it a mercy to kill a child who is "already dead". As you said, the cases are not exactly the same. But, I do think there are similarities... both in meaning and language used. He must have heard her. "It's a mercy," he said. "He's dead already." You cannot leave them in that same tower as the dead girl. I have no problem with dissenting opinions, especially those that present a good case. But, I do not think suppressing conversation is the same as banning it outright. Free speech is a protection from the government and has nothing to do with private forums such as this.

This quote you sited about cripples refers to men of the Nights Watch not wildlings. There's no time. There are wildlings south of the Wall, coming up from Queenscrown to open the gate." "How many?" Noye half-carried Jon out the door. "A hundred and twenty, and well armed for wildlings. Bronze armor, some bits of steel. How many men are left here?" "Forty odd," said Donal Noye. "The crippled and infirm, and some green boys still in training." "If Marsh is gone, who did he name as castellan?" The armorer laughed. "Ser Wynton, gods preserve him. Last knight in the castle and all. The thing is, Stout seems to have forgotten and no one's been rushing to remind him. I suppose I'm as much a commander as we have now. The meanest of the cripples." That was for the good, at least. The one-armed armorer was hard headed, tough, and well seasoned in war. Ser Wynton Stout, on the other hand . . . well, he had been a good man once, everyone agreed, but he had been eighty years a ranger, and both strength and wits were gone. Once he'd fallen asleep at supper and almost drowned in a bowl of pea soup. She literally calls it a mercy... I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago. I agree the Val quote is not a one to one comparison. Greyscale is not the same as being crippled. The intent of the quote was to show how it's possible for a seemingly "good" character to view killing a child as a mercy, in particular among the wildlings.

This is what I mean.

I'm not saying Mance wouldn't have killed Ned or Robb if he thought he could get away with it. They would certainly kill him. As it turns out, the catspaw failed to kill a crippled boy in a bed even after Ned and the King went south, and I think the intention was to cause strife south of the Wall, the king's dagger being found used to kill the Stark's son, which is exactly what happened. Mance was taking advantage of a perceived opportunity, and meanwhile could investigate then set fire to the Winterfell Library while everyone would assume it was just a diversion from the assassin, and not the other way around. Most every character seemed to expect Bran to die anyway. Also, killing a crippled boy could be construed as a mercy, like the catspaw says, or like what Val says about Shireen. "It is not always mortal in children." "North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago."

First, I think it's a fine line between hero and villain. "He was the best of us," said the Halfhand, "and the worst as well. Only fools like Thoren Smallwood despise the wildlings. They are as brave as we are, Jon. As strong, as quick, as clever. But they have no discipline. They name themselves the free folk, and each one thinks himself as good as a king and wiser than a maester. Mance was the same. He never learned how to obey." Oftentimes I think the difference comes down to motive, and perspective. Mance and the Starks are natural enemies, and explicitly such, right from the start of the series. Wildlings have no love for Starks, and the Starks are sworn to take the life of a deserter. For eight thousand years the men of House Stark had lived and died to protect their people against such ravagers and reavers . . . and bastard-born or no, the same blood ran in his veins. Bran and Rickon are still at Winterfell besides. Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Old Nan, Farlen the kennelmaster, Mikken at his forge and Gage by his ovens . . . everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever loved. If Jon must slay a man he half admired and almost liked to save them from the mercies of Rattleshirt and Harma Dogshead and the earless Magnar of Thenn, that was what he meant to do. Would Mance kill a child in the name of saving his people? What is the life of one boy against a kingdom? Everything. I like Mance, but I don't think he's another Ned, and I do think he would kill a child if he thought the ends justified it. Edit: In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile.

I haven't seen an SSM or interview in which GRRM says Joff sent the catspaw. If it exists please do share. The ones I've seen are old and vague (in my opinion). If information is not public it is privileged. I've been repeatedly told that this case is confirmed as closed based on some perception of this privileged information. And you know what, maybe it has been confirmed in private, but I've been unable to find any publicly available quote of evidence of it. I am fully in support of anyone expressing any theory they are using the text to support.

I thought I was pretty clear, but I can try again. I've never seen a public statement from GRRM that clearly says Joff sent the catspaw. There are ancient vague quotes about figuring it out, but I think many consider the catspaw case closed because of the perception that those with privileged information have said it is so. I've certainly been told as much many times, and this thread is evidence of how adamant some people seem to be about it. I think the text can and should speak for itself, and I think there is a better case to be made from the text that Mance was behind the catspaw than Joff. Others may disagree, and I welcome them making such a case. And, that's not to say I can be sure, it's obviously just a theory, and I'm not claiming ownership of the theory, I think it's significant enough to have been apparent to many readers. But, I am always surprised by how much discussion is suppressed about this topic, and I think it's a shame.