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 /
They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. “Maela,” some called her, while others cried “Aelalla or “Qathei” or “Tato,” but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother.