I remember you, standing on that platform with Joffrey and Cersei when they dragged father to the block. I remember the pretty dress you were wearing. I remember the fancy way you did your hair
Tell Lord Tywin, winter is coming for him. 20000 Northeners marching South to find out if he really does shit gold
There's no one worse than you!
Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left? I want to scream at myself, "Don't go, you idiot."