She was no one’s daughter now. She was no one. Not Arya, not Weasel, not Nan nor Arry nor Squab, not even Lumpyhead. She was only some girl who ran with a dog by day, and dreamed of wolves by night.
♔ Natasha;— @sansastarking /
My son is leading a host to war, she thought, still only half believing it. She was desperately afraid for him, and for Winterfell, yet she could not deny feeling a certain pride as well. A year ago he had been a boy. What was he now? she wondered.
What I want to do with Jon is that he can’t be a hero straight away, and that’s what the writers are doing as well. He has to learn,” Harington tells Zap2it. “I think this season he really starts learning. He starts being able to control his temper more, which he’s not been so good at in the past.
"Don’t look!" a thick voice snarled at her. "I… I… I…" Arya sobbed. The old man shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Shut your mouth and close your eyes, boy." Dimly, as if from far away, she heard a… a noise… a soft sighing sound, as if a million people had let out their breath at once.