And I know that in the morning I will wake up in the shivering cold

ariml:

In the city, the lions prance and dance. The Red Wedding, the smallfolk are calling it. They swear Lord Frey had the boy’s head hacked off, sewed the head of his direwolf in its place, and nailed a crown about his ears. His lady mother was slain as well, and thrown naked in the river. 

            - A Storm of Swords

— 2 weeks ago with 679 notes