The most touching scene from the books/series

[Arya kiddin']

then a wolf shall morph into a mighty dragon and all the lesser beasts shall bend the knee

Likely it has happened, about 15 years ago in a godforsaken tower in Dorne. The boy is a little plain, but able and beloved of the she-wolf assassin or so I hear. ;)

[Plume]

AGOT P. 214

"Give him time," Tyrion said.

Far off to the north, a wolf began to howl. Another voice picked up the call, then another. Ghost cocked his head and listened. "If he doesn't come back," Jon Snow promised, "Ghost and I will go find him." He put his hand on the direwolf's head.

"I believe you," Tyrion said, but what he thought was, And who will go find you? He shivered.

[Seven Bloody Hells]

Ned killing Lady.

Jamie jumping into the bear pit. Then telling Brienne he dreamt of her.

Tyrion designing the horse saddle for Bran.

[Jon's Queen Consort]

To name a few maybe later I will add more.

“Gods, wolf, where have you been?” Jon said when Ghost stopped worrying at his forearm. “I thought you’d died on me, like Robb and Ygritte and all the rest. I’ve had no sense of you, not since I climbed the Wall, not even in dreams.” The direwolf had no answer, but he licked Jon’s face with a tongue like a wet rasp, and his eyes caught the last light and shone like two great red suns.

“And the man breaks.

“He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them…but he should pity them as well.”

When Meribald was finished a profound silence fell upon their little band. Brienne could hear the wind rustling through a clump of pussywillows, and farther off the faint cry of a loon. She could hear Dog panting softly as he loped along beside the septon and his donkey, tongue lolling from his mouth. The quiet stretched and stretched, until finally she said, “How old were you when they marched you off to war?”

“Why, no older than your boy,” Meribald replied. “Too young for such, in truth, but my brothers were all going, and I would not be left behind. Willam said I could be his squire, though Will was no knight, only a potboy armed with a kitchen knife he’d stolen from the inn. He died upon the Stepstones, and never struck a blow. It was fever did for him, and for my brother Robin. Owen died from a mace that split his head apart, and his friend Jon Pox was hanged for rape.”

“The War of the Ninepenny Kings?” asked Hyle Hunt.

“So they called it, though I never saw a king, nor earned a penny. It was a war, though. That it was.”

Needle was Jon Snow’s smile

Stannis, my lord, my sad sullen boy, son I never had, you must not do this, don’t you know how I have cared for you, lived for you, loved you despite all? Yes, loved you, better than Robert even, or Renly, for you were the one unloved, the one who needed me most. And I will serve you to the last, my sweet lord, my poor lonely son, Cressen thought, for suddenly he saw the way.

Have you forgotten me?”
Can I forget someone I never knew? The words caught in his throat. He did know her, but it had been so long . . .
“Will you forget your own lord father too? I wonder if you ever knew him, truly.” Her eyes were green, her hair spun gold. He could not tell how old she was. Fifteen, he thought, or fifty. She climbed the steps to stand above the bier. “He could never abide being laughed at. That was the thing he hated most.”
“Who are you?” He had to hear her say it.
“The question is, who are you?”
“This is a dream.”
“Is it?” She smiled sadly. “Count your hands, child.”
One. One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. “In my dreams I always have two hands.” He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.
“We all dream of things we cannot have. Tywin dreamed that his son would be a great knight, that his daughter would be a queen. He dreamed they would be so strong and brave and beautiful that no one would ever laugh at them.”
“I am a knight,” he told her, “and Cersei is a queen.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. The woman raised her hood again and turned her back on him. Jaime called after her, but already she was moving away, her skirt whispering lullabies as it brushed across the floor. Don’t leave me, he wanted to call, but of course she’d left them long ago.

That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but somewhere along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.

Theon heard himself say, "My lady, why do you hate the Starks?"

She studied him. "For the same reason you love them."

Theon stumbled. "Love them? I never … I took this castle from them, my lady. I had … had Bran and Rickon put to

death, mounted their heads on spikes, I …"[...]"I know who you are. I know what you are. Now answer my question. Why do you

love the Starks?"

"I …" Theon put a gloved hand against a pillar. "… I wanted to be one of them …

"And never could. We have more in common than you know, my lord."

“I stopped believing in gods the day I saw the Windproud break up across the bay. Any gods so monstrous as to drown my mother and father would never have my worship, I vowed. In King’s Landing, the High Septon would prattle at me of how all justice and goodness flowed from the Seven, but all I ever saw of either was made by men.”

He had a pack as well, once. Five they had been, and a sixth who stood aside. Somewhere down inside him were the sounds the men had given them to tell one from the other, but it was not by their sounds he knew them. He remembered their scents, his brothers and his sisters. They all had smelled alike, had smelled of pack, but each was different too. His angry brother with the hot green eyes was near, the prince felt, though he had not seen him for many hunts. Yet with every sun that set he grew more distant, and he had been the last. The others were far scattered, like leaves blown by the wild wind. Sometimes he could sense them, though, as if they were still with him, only hidden from his sight by a boulder or a stand of trees. He could not smell them, nor hear their howls by night, yet he felt their presence at his back... all but the sister they had lost. His tail drooped when he remembered her. Four now, not five. Four and one more, the white who has no voice.

These woods belonged to them, the snowy slopes and stony hills, the great green pines and the golden leaf oaks, the rushing streams and blue lakes fringed with fingers of white frost. But his sister had left the wilds, to walk in the halls of man-rock where other hunters ruled, and once within those halls it was hard to find the path back out. The wolf prince remembered.

"Ser Jaime?" Even in soiled pink satin and torn lace, Brienne looked more like a man in a gown than a proper woman. "I am grateful, but . . . you were well away. Why come back?"

A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. "I dreamed of you," he said.

Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning. “You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

Connington edged away from the spreading flames on his hands and knees. “Brienne. If it please my lord.” He spat a glob of blood at Jaime’s foot. “Brienne the Beauty.”

edit:

"In the King's wood there lived a mother and her cub. She loved him very much but there were other things that lived in the woods, evil things like stags and wolves. He could hear them howling in the night. The little cub was frightened.

His mother said, "You are a lion my son, you mustn't be afraid. For one day all the beasts will bow to you. You will be king. All the stags will bow, all the wolves will bow, the bears in the North and the foxes of the South, all the birds in the sky and the beasts in the sea. They will all come to you little lion, to rest a crown upon your head."

And the cub said, "Will I be strong and fierce like my father?"

"Yes," said his mother, "you will be strong and fierce just like your father."

I will keep you safe, my love. I promise you."

Don't die so far from the sea.

edit2:

And Robb. Robb who had been more a brother to Theon than any son born of Balon Greyjoy’s loins. Murdered at the Red Wedding, butchered by the Freys. I should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him.

Only Tywin dared speak against the match. A boy of ten. Father turned as white as mare's milk, and Walder Frey was quivering...How could I not love him after that? That is not to say I approved of all he did, or much enjoyed the company of the man he became...but every little girl needs a big brother to protect her. Tywin was big even when he was little

"Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born." The old man felt Jon's face. "You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born."

"Egg? Egg, I dreamed that I was old".

Lord Tywin seldom spoke of his wife, but Tyrion had heard his uncles talk of the love between them. In those days, his father had been Aerys’s Hand, and many people said that Lord Tywin Lannister ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but Lady Joanna ruled Lord Tywin. “He was not the same man after she died, imp,” his Uncle Gery told him once. “The best part of him died with her.”

[Jaime4Brienne]

.

Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning. “You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

Connington edged away from the spreading flames on his hands and knees. “Brienne. If it please my lord.” He spat a glob of blood at Jaime’s foot. “Brienne the Beauty.”

Jaime should have given him a kick for calling her that.

[Jon's Queen Consort]

:agree: he should kick him bloody.

[Okaythen]

Gilly- I'm not a lady I'm a Mother.

[TheDarkEye]

Robb and Bran crying in AGOT...

After reading the rest of the five books its just horribly sad... Everytime some Stark said goodbye to another Stark is touching actually, because they loved one-another and.. well... danm you Geroge :crying:

Also Theon thinking on Robb in the fifth book,,, my heart weeped...

[gougef]

"Egg, I dreamed I was old."

Gets me every single time.

[Squire Dalbridge]

Likely it has happened, about 15 years ago in a godforsaken tower in Dorne. The boy is a little plain, but able and beloved of the she-wolf assassin or so I hear. ;)

Where does the quote you provided actually come from, if I may ask?

[GHOSTSTARK]

When Bran wakes up from his coma dream and his wolf his right in his face and he names him Summer. When Jon & Robb say their final goodbye and when Jon thinks about the flakes falling in winterfell and its in Robbs hair. When Ned has to kill Lady. When Ned thinks about Jon while hes locked up. How Arya thinks about losing her pack and being the lone wolf and how Jon used to mess her hair.

[Good King Daemon]

There's one Sansa line in ASOS or AFFC that gets me every time. She's remembering leaving winterfell and she thinks "I thought my song was just beginning then, but it was nearly over".

[Northbound]

I have one, that was pretty sad to me. The Hound and Arya's final moments with each other.

[The Crow's Third Eye]

Bran in general has many touching moments, but on one of the ocassions that he wargs Hodor and he wants to shout out to Meera that he loves her. Oh Bran, tell her!

Podrick Payne: "I was his squire! he said "And he LEFT me!"

Arya Stark: Bu her father told it wrong. She was the lone wolf and her pack had left her

Bran-Wood: When he sees who I assume are Lyanna and Brandon/Ned/Benjen fighting with sticks, and Lyanna shouts: "You stupid!" I just thought of Arya and how she really is a Stark through and through.

Catelyn's e tire POV from beginning to end of the RW. Now I know what is coming I just want to cry when I start it

[Arya kiddin']

Where does the quote you provided actually come from, if I may ask?

Which one exactly, kind ser? I just wrote all that myself. :)

[Squire Dalbridge]

Which one exactly, kind ser? I just wrote all that myself. :)

Yeah, sorry, I did not manage to quote the quote...

In the post no. 41 of this thread, a quote by A. Dayne: "Then a wolf shall..."

[Arya kiddin']

Yeah, sorry, I did not manage to quote the quote...

In the post no. 41 of this thread, a quote by A. Dayne: "Then a wolf shall..."

He wrote it himself as well me thinks. :)

[Muggle]

Game of Thrones Chapter 35, Ned 9

It seemed to take years. Faces watched from candlelit windows, and people began to emerge from alleys and doors, but no one moved to help. Littlefinger and the City Watch found him there in the street, cradling Jory Cassel’s body in his arms.

This was when i realized the true nature of the books. I saw some small parts earlier but this is what opened my eyes.

[Sigorn]

The arrow was black, jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers. Not mine, he told himself, not one of mine. But he felt as it were.
When he knelt in the snow beside her, her eyes were open. "Jon Snow" she said very softly. It sounded as though the arrow had found a lung.
"Is this a proper castle now? not just a tower?"
"It is" Jon took her hand.
"Good" she whispered. "I wanted t'seeone proper castle, before... before I..."
"You will see a hundred castles," he promised her. "The battle's done. Maester Aemon will see to you." He touched her hair.
"You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch uoy up, and we'll
get you some milk of the poppy for teh pain."
She just smiled at that "do you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so."
"We'll go back to the cave," he said "You are not going to die,
Ygritte. You are not."
"Oh." Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she sighed, dying.

...It's just breath-taking to me... and ' don't need to consider all the pain Jon suffered and will maybe suffer because of his heritage, all the pain his heart felt when he had to choose betwen the two stronger kind of love a man can face: the love for a woman an the love for his idea of himself, his honor.

"Egg, I dreamed I was old."

is maybe my second choice, such as Arya hiding Needle when she's told to forget who she is

and, even if i don't completely trust the new jamie, i rememebr i was touched when i read the sentence about Arthur Dayne and the Smiling Knight, it's like if he realized in this moment he was not a child anymore...

[Katerine459]

When I saw this question, the first scene that I thought of was the scene between Ned and Arya... the one where he talks about how the lone wolf dies and the pack survives in winter. Not really because of that part of the conversation, but because of the conversation as a whole. You could really, really feel how much Ned loved his children, and how much Arya loved him, in that scene.

Edit to add - this one too:

“And the man breaks.

“He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them…but he should pity them as well.”

When Meribald was finished a profound silence fell upon their little band. Brienne could hear the wind rustling through a clump of pussywillows, and farther off the faint cry of a loon. She could hear Dog panting softly as he loped along beside the septon and his donkey, tongue lolling from his mouth. The quiet stretched and stretched, until finally she said, “How old were you when they marched you off to war?”

“Why, no older than your boy,” Meribald replied. “Too young for such, in truth, but my brothers were all going, and I would not be left behind. Willam said I could be his squire, though Will was no knight, only a potboy armed with a kitchen knife he’d stolen from the inn. He died upon the Stepstones, and never struck a blow. It was fever did for him, and for my brother Robin. Owen died from a mace that split his head apart, and his friend Jon Pox was hanged for rape.”

“The War of the Ninepenny Kings?” asked Hyle Hunt.

“So they called it, though I never saw a king, nor earned a penny. It was a war, though. That it was.”

(Thanks to Jon's Queen Consort for typing this out, so I don't have to. :) I did change some of the emphasis, because the part that got to me was a little different.)