Valar Dohaeris

I want to fight for the side that fights for the living. Did I come to the right place? [x]

“Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North.”

(Source: fearisforthewinter)

They will garb your brother Robb in silks, satins, and velvets of a hundred different colors, while you live and die in black ringmail. He will wed some beautiful princess and father sons on her. You’ll have no wife, nor will you ever hold a child of your own blood in your arms. Robb will rule, you will serve. Men will call you a crow. Him they’ll call Your Grace. Singers will praise every little thing he does, while your greatest deeds all go unsung.

(Source: robbstark)

He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life—however long that might be—he would be condemned to be an outsider.

(Source: meerareed)

(Source: oswinasswald)

His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. Bran thought it curious that this pup alone would have opened his eyes while the others were still blind. “An albino,” Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. “This one will die even faster than the others.” Jon Snow gave his father’s ward a long, chilling look. “I think not, Greyjoy,” he said. This one belongs to me.