“No one,” she would answer, she who had been Arya of House Stark, Arya Underfoot, Arya Horseface. She had been Arry and Weasel too, and Squab and Salty, Nan the cupbearer, a grey mouse, a sheep, the ghost of Harrenhal … but not for true, not in her heart of hearts. In there she was Arya of Winterfell, the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn, who had once had brothers named Robb and Bran and Rickon, a sister named Sansa, a direwolf called Nymeria, a half brother named Jon Snow. In there she was someone … but that was not the answer he wanted.
“No one,” she would answer, she who had been Arya of House Stark, Arya Underfoot, Arya Horseface. She had been Arry and Weasel too, and Squab and Salty, Nan the cupbearer, a grey mouse, a sheep, the ghost of Harrenhal … but not for true, not in her heart of hearts. In there she was Arya of Winterfell, the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn, who had once had brothers named Robb and Bran and Rickon, a sister named Sansa, a direwolf called Nymeria, a half brother named Jon Snow. In there she was someone … but that was not the answer he wanted.
“Timshel” by Mumford and Sons.
cold is the water,
it freezes your already cold mind,
already cold, cold mind.
and death is at your doorstep,
and it will steal your innocence.
but it will not steal your substance.
but you are not alone in this.
and you are not alone in this.
as brothers we will stand and we’ll hold your hand,
hold your hand.
and you are the mother,
the mother of your baby child,
the one to whom you gave life.
and you have your choices,
and these are what make man great;
his ladder to the stars.
and I will tell the night,
whisper, “lose your sight.”
but I can’t move the mountains for you.
