“Jaime smiled. "I hope you're not thinking of taking the black on us, sweet brother."Tyrion laughed. "What, me, celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No, I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world.”

“I beg you both, take heart.'(Varys)'Whose?' asked Tyrion sourly. He could think of several tempting choices.”

“Stone, I must be stone, I must be Casterly Rock, hard and unmovable.”

“A shadow on the wall,” Varys murmured, “yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.”Tyrion smiled. “Lord Varys, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I’d feel sad about it.”“I will take that as high praise.”

“Robert wanted to be loved. My brother Tyrion has the same disease. Do you want to be loved, Sansa?”“Everyone wants to be loved.”“I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. “Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

“How could I not love him, after that? That is not to say that I approved of all he did, or much enjoyed the company of the man that he became... but every little girl needs a big brother to protect her. Tywin was big even when he was little.” She gave a sigh. “Who will protect us now?”Jaime kissed her cheek. “He left a son.”“Aye, he did. That is what I fear the most, in truth.”That was a queer remark. “Why should you fear?”“Jaime,” she said, tugging on his ear, “sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna’s breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there’s some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak... but Tyrion is Tywin’s son, not you. I said so once to your father’s face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years.”

“The Iron Throne is mine by rights. All those who deny that are my foes.""The whole of the realm denies it, brother," said Renley. "Old men deny it with their death rattle, and unborn children deny it in their mothers' wombs. They deny it in Dorne and they deny it on the Wall. No one wants you for their king. Sorry.”