No One Had Expected The Broken Boy To Live. The Gods Could Not Kill Bran, No More Than I Could.

No one had expected the broken boy to live. The gods could not kill Bran, no more than I could.

@gotsecretsanta gift for my darling @branstark

A king doesn’t discuss battle plans with stupid girls.

She was no stranger to waiting, after all. Her men had always made her wait. “Watch for me, little cat,” her father would always tell her, when he rode off to court or fair or battle. And she would, standing patiently on the battlements of Riverrun as the waters of the Red Fork and the Tumblestone flowed by. He did not always come when he said he would, and days would ofttimes pass as Catelyn stood her vigil, peering out between crenels and through arrow loops until she caught a glimpse of Lord Hoster on his old brown gelding, trotting along the river-shore toward the landing. “Did you watch for me?” he’d ask when he bent to hug her. “Did you, little cat?” (requested by @roryssgilmore)

“That’s why I love this job. You find yourself going to places and doing things that would never even have crossed your imagination had you been left to your own devices. It challenges you to take life from different angles. And if you do it right, it’s several lives for the price of one.”

Lyanna arrived with the lion of Lannister splashed across her breast and when Tyrion glanced at his father, he bit back a smile.  Lord Tywin could not deny him Casterly Rock now–not unless he wanted war with House Stark.

But not from Joffrey. He won’t do anything now Father’s here.