“If I took it away, no doubt I'd find a morningstar hidden under your pillow within a fortnight. Try not to stab your sister, whatever the provocation.”

“An old man sat down beside her. "Well, aren't you a pretty little peach?" His breath smelled near as foul as the dead men in the cages, and his little pig eyes were crawling up and down her. "Does my sweet peach have a name?"For half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not here with some smelly drunk she did not know. "I'm . . .""She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be."The man turned, spoiling for a quarrel, but when he saw Gendry's size he thought better of it. "You sister, is she? What kind of brother are you? I'd never bring no sister of mine to the Peach, that I wouldn't." He got up from the bench and moved off muttering, in search of a new friend."Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet, "You're not my brother.""That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I mean it.""Yes it is." He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her.""But . . .""I said, go away. M'lady."Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.”

“I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother”

“I'm named Bella," the girl told Gendry. "For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?""No," he said gruffly."I bet you do." She ran a hand along his arm. "I don't cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lighting lord.""No, I said." Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night.Bella turn to Arya. "Don't he like girls?"Arya shrugged. "He's just stupid. He likes to polish helmets and beat on swords with hammers.”

“At sixteen, he was cursed with all the certainty of youth, unleavened by any trace of humor or self-doubt, and wed to the arrogance that came so naturally to those born blond and strong and handsome.”

“I don’t know what message to send to Bran. Help him Tyrion.”“What help could I give him? I am no maester, to ease his pain. I have no spell to give him back his legs.”“You gave me help when I needed it” Jon Snow said.“I gave you nothing,” Tyrion said. “Words.”“Then give your words to Bran too.”

“You look pale, Sansa," Cersei observed. "Is your red flower still blooming?""Yes""How apt. The men will bleed out there, and you in here.”