Lysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping on the wet marble. And then she was gone. She never screamed. For the longest time there was no sound but the wind.
"I had hoped you would support my choice.”
“I cannot! In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this… this folly. Do not ask it.”
"I don’t have to. I’m the king."
- A Storm of Swords, Catelyn V
Catelyn Stark per episode: Winter is Coming (1x01)
1.04 // 4.05
She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding.
Don’t you think I know who you are?
My f l e s h and b l o o d.
Catelyn was shaking. It was the grief, the cold, the howling of the direwolves. Night after night, the howling and the cold wind and the grey empty castle, on and on they went, never changing, and her boy lying there broken, the sweetest of her children, the gentlest, Bran who loved to laugh and climb and dreamt of knighthood, all gone now, she would never hear him laugh again. Sobbing, she pulled her hand free of his and covered her ears against those terrible howls. “Make them stop!” she cried. “I can’t stand it, make them stop, make them stop, kill them all if you must, just make them stop!”
Love didn’t just happen to us. We built it slowly, stone by stone, over the years.