A Game Of Thrones, Jon III

A Game of Thrones, Jon III

He missed his true brothers;

Little Rickon, bright eyes shining as he begged for a sweet;

Robb, his rival and best friend and constant companion;

Bran, stubborn and curious, always wanting to follow and join in whatever Jon and Robb were doing.

He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but “my half brother” since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant.

And Arya…he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful.

Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had…yet she could always make Jon smile.

He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.

💯🙏💛🟨👍

arya is probably the only person who has kissed and held balerion since his rhaenys died. you ever think of that

i think it is important to recognize the ways in which your favorite thing sucks. i think it keeps u normal

still love the way grrm decided to write this so damn much. other than the obvious romantic undertones of it all the “so he did” is so terse and simple and blunt as if it is the most straightforward and obvious thing in the world for him. jumping unarmed into a pit with a live bear to try save this woman is the most sound thing in the world. wanting her is the most sound thing in the world. doing the right thing is the most sound thing in the world. there is no justification for even a blink of hesitation. so he did.

"Ask for Merry. Meralyn is her true name, but everyone calls her Merry, and she is." Merry bought a dozen oysters every time Cat came by the brothel and shared them with her girls. She had a good heart, everyone agreed. "That, and the biggest pair of teats in all of Braavos," Merry herself was fond of boasting.

Cat Of The Canals, A Feast for Crows

Shivering, she sat up in bed and ran a hand across her scalp. Stubble bristled against her palm. I need to shave before Izembaro sees. Mercy, I’m Mercy, and tonight I’ll be raped and murdered. Her true name was Mercedene, but Mercy was all anyone ever called her… Except in dreams. She took a breath to quiet the howling in her heart, trying to remember more of what she’d dreamt, but most of it had gone already.

Mercy, The Winds of Winter sample chapter

Nice little parallel here, I'd never picked up on it untill now.

Ever stopped to think this might be the author waving at us telling us Arya is indeed merciful in nature (same as Meralyn is indeed a merry person)?