She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.

a few days ago she had been wandering around with a swatch of black silk tied over her eyes. Syrio was teaching her to see with her ears and her nose and her skin, she told him. Before that, he had her doing spinds and back flips. "Arya, are you certain you want to persist in this?" She nodded. "Tomorrow we're going to catch cats." "Cats." Ned sighed.

Mothers." The man made a word sound like a curse. "I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad.

I knew that, when writing a book, you're not constrained by a budget. You're not constrained by what you can do, in terms of the special effects technology. You're not limited to any particular running time.

Arya, What are you doing?" "Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. Ned had to smile. "Which toe?" he teased. "ANY toe," Arya said, exasperated with the question. She hopped from her right leg to her left, swaying dangerously before she regained her balance. "Must you do your standing here?" he asked. "It's a long hard fall down these steps." "Syrio says a water dancer NEVER falls.

Sometimes he could almost forget that it was there, the way you forget about the sky or the earth underfoot, but there were other times when it seemed as if there was nothing else in the world.

And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things.