Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow.
‘You’re mine,’ she whispered. ‘Mine, as I’m yours. And if we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first, we’ll live.’
Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?
jon/ygritte uni au because i can’t draw anything but aus
I know one thing. I know that you are wildling to the bone. It was easy to forget that sometimes, when they were laughing together, or kissing. But then one of them would say something, or do something, and he would suddenly be reminded of the wall between their worlds.
- Well, let’s say that since you were little, you always dreamed of getting a lion. And you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait but the lion doesn’t come. And along comes a giraffe. You can be alone, or you can be with the giraffe.
- I’d wait for the lion.
- That’s why I worry about you.
“The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky.”
“You never knew what t’ do after you stole me.”
“Ygritte, I never stole you.”
“Aye, you did.”
“He was a really special guy. It just felt like his light was just too bright for this place.” - Matt Damon on Heath Ledger
