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weirwoodgrove

@weirwoodgrove / weirwoodgrove.tumblr.com

Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. This is not a spoiler free blog.
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dearsansa

"How fortunate we were who still had hope I did not realise then; I could not know how soon the time would come when we should have no more hope, and yet be unable to die." - Vera Brittain, A Testament of Youth

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I made a promise, Mister Snow. A promise! ‘Don’t you leave him Samwell Tarly.’ And I don’t mean to! I don’t mean to.

Samwell Tarly [to Jon Snow], A Storm of Swords

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nickigrants

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.” The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. “Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands.”

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