They mean to scare me. The fool hopped on Jaime’s back giggling, as the Dothraki swaggered toward him. The goat wants me to piss my breaches and big his mercy, but he’ll never have that pleasure. He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; no sellsword would make him scream.

Sunlight ran silver along the edge of the arakh as it came shivering down, almost too fast to see. And Jaime screamed.

“A boy becomes a girl,” he murmured.
“I was always a girl. I didn’t think you saw me.”
“A man sees. A man knows.”
She remembered that she hated him. “You scared me. You’re one of them now, I should have let you burn. What are you doing here? Go away or I’ll yell for Weese.”
“A man pays his debts. A man owes three.”

A Clash of Kings

“Jaime,” she said, tugging on his ear, “sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna’s breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there’s some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak … but Tyrion is Tywin’s son, not you. I said so once to your father’s face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years.”

It’s too much.

WINTERBURNS {arya/gendry}

She didn’t know why she came back. After all the years, after everything she’d been through, after becoming no one even, the place still called to her. … It wasn’t going home, it wasn’t going back. It was just another thing for her to do.