“Yours was the hand that threw him. You meant for him to die.”His chains chinked softly. “I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die.”

“I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health.”

“If I die, I die friendless and abandoned. What choice did that leave him, but to live?”

“Jaime," Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. "Jaime, what are you doing?""Dying," he whispered back."No," she said, "no, you must live."He wanted to laugh. "Stop telling me what to do, wench. I'll die if it pleases me.""Are you so craven?"The words shocked him. He was Jaime Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard, he was the Kingslayer. No man had ever called him craven. Other things they called him, yes; oathbreaker, liar, murderer. They said he was cruel, treacherous, reckless. But never craven. "What else can I do, but die?""Live," she said, "live, and fight, and take revenge."Craven, Jaime thought.... Can it be? They took my sword hand. Was that all I was, a sword hand? Gods be good, is it true?The wench had the right of it. He could not die.”

“We'll need to make a litter to carry him," said Osha."No use," said Luwin. "I'm dying, woman.""You can't," said Rickon angrily. "No you can't." Beside him, Shaggydog bared his teeth and growled.The maester smiled. "Hush now, child, I'm much older than you. I can . . . die as I please.”

“Could you bring back a man without a head?” Arya asked. “Just the once, not six times. Could you?”“I have no magic, child. Only prayers. That first time, his lordship had a hole right through him and blood in his mouth, I knew there was no hope. So when his poor torn chest stopped moving, I gave him the good god’s own kiss to send him on his way. I filled my mouth with fire and breathed the flames inside him, down his throat to lungs and heart and soul. The last kiss it is called, and many a time I saw the old priests bestow it on the Lord’s servants as they died. I had given it a time or two myself, as all priests must. But never before had I felt a dead man shudder as the fire filled him, nor seen his eyes come open. It was not me who raised him, my lady. It was the Lord. R’hllor is not done with him yet. Life is warmth, and warmth is fire, and fire is God’s and God’s alone.”Arya felt tears well in her eyes. Thoros used a lot of words, but all they meant was no, that much she understood.”

“We were talking about the prince,' Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss.Arya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The tall, handsome one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast. Arya had to sit with the little fat one. Naturally.”