#mercy vs cruelty

    “And you want your own reward, is that it? Very well. What is it you would have of me? Lands, a castle, some office?”

    “A little bloody gratitude would make a nice start.”

    Lord Tywin stared at him unblinking. “Mummers and monkeys require applause. So did Aerys, for that matter. You did as you were commanded, and I am sure it was to the best of your ability. No one denies the part you played.”

    “The partI played?” What nostrils Tyrion had left must surely have flared. “I saved your bloody city, it seems to me.”

    “Most people seem to feel that it was my attack on Lord Stannis’s flank that turned the tide of battle. Lords Tyrell, Rowan, Redwyne, and Tarly fought nobly as well, and I’m told it was your sister Cersei who set the pyromancers to making the wildfire that destroyed the Baratheon fleet.”

    “While all I did was get my nosehairs trimmed, is that it?” Tyrion could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

    “Your chain was a clever stroke, and crucial to our victory. Is that what you wanted to hear? I am told we have you to thank for our Dornish alliance as well… if there is nothing else…”

    “You have important letters, yes.” Tyrion rose on unsteady legs, closed his eyes for an instant as a wave of dizziness washed over him, and took a shaky step toward the door. Later, he would reflect that he should have taken a second, and then a third. Instead he turned. “What do I want, you ask? I’ll tell you what I want. I want what is mine by rights. I want Casterly Rock.”

    His father’s mouth grew hard. “Your brother’s birthright?”

    “The knights of the Kingsguard are forbidden to marry, to father children, and to hold land, you know that as well as I. The day Jaime put on that white cloak, he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock, but never once have you acknowledged it. It’s past time. I want you to stand up before the realm and proclaim that I am your son and your lawful heir.”

    Lord Tywin’s eyes were a pale green flecked with gold, as luminous as they were merciless. “Casterly Rock,” he declared in a flat cold dead tone. And then, “Never.”

    “Why?” he made himself ask, though he knew he would rue the question.

    “You ask that? You, who killed your mother to come into the world? You are an ill-made, devious, disobedient, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. Men’s laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colors, since I cannot prove that you are not mine. To teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father’s sigil and his father’s before him. But neither gods nor men shall ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse.”

                                              -George R. R. Martin, A Storm of Swords­­

Clothing CC: By @ts4got (Personal recolor pictured).

    “Tell the Westerosi whore to lower her eyes,” the slaver Kraznys mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. “I deal in meat, not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely.”

    “The good Master Kraznys asks, are they not magnificent?” The girl spoke the Common Tongue well, for one who had never been to Westeros.

    “They might be adequate to my needs,” Dany answered. “Tell me of their training.”

    “The Westerosi woman is pleased with them, but speaks no praise, to keep the price down,” the translator told her master. “She wishes to know how they were trained.”

    “Are all Westerosi pigs so ignorant?” he complained. “All the world knows that the Unsullied are masters of spear and shield and shortsword.” He gave Dany a broad smile. “Tell her what she would know, slave, and be quick about it. The day is hot.”

    “They are chosen young, for size and speed and strength,” the slave told her. “They begin their training at five. Every day they train from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. The training is most rigorous, Your Grace. Only one boy in three survives it. This is well known. Among the Unsullied it is said that on the day they win their spiked cap, the worst is done with, for no duty that will ever fall to them could be as hard as their training.”  

    Kraznys mo Nakloz supposedly spoke no word of the Common Tongue, but he bobbed his head as he listened, and from time to time gave the slave girl a poke with the end of his lash. “Tell her that these have been standing here for a day and a night, with no food nor water. Tell her that they will stand until they drop if I should command it, and when ninety-nine have collapsed to die upon the bricks, the last will stand there still, and never move until his own death claims him. Such is their courage. Tell her that.”

                                                   -George R. R. Martin, A Storm of Swords

Poses by: @ts4got

simmring:

Joffrey- Well struck Dog! Did you like that?
Sansa- It was well struck, Your Grace.
Joffrey- I already said it was well struck.
Sansa- Yes, Your Grace.
Joffrey- Who’s next?
Herald- Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish. Ser Dontos the Red, of House Hollard. Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard!
Ser Dontos- Here I am! Here I am! Sorry, Your Grace. My deepest apologies.
Joffrey- Are you drunk?
Ser Dontos- No. I..no, Your Grace..I..I had two cups of wine.
Joffrey- Two cups? That’s not much at all. Please, have another cup.
Ser Dontos- Are you sure, Your Grace?
Joffrey- Yes, celebrate my name day. Have two. Have as much as you’d like.
Ser Dontos- I’d be honored, Your Grace.
Joffrey- Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my name day. See that he drinks his fill.
Sansa- You can’t!
Joffrey- What did you say? Did you say I can’t?
Sansa- I only meant it would be bad luck to kill a man on your name day.
Joffrey- What kind of stupid peasant superstition?
Sandor-The girl is right. What a man sows on his name day, he reaps all year.
Joffrey- Send him away. I’ll have him killed tomorrow, the fool.
Sansa- He is. A fool. You’re so clever to see it. He’ll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.
Joffrey- Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From this day you’ll be my new fool!
Ser Dontos- Thanks you, Your Grace. And you, my lady. Thank you.

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