One day she would allow herself to be less than strong. But not today. It could not be today.
“It’s just a stupid sword”, she said, aloud this time… but it wasn’t.
Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile.
I’m making a rap song right now. It’s called “I’ll tap that fucking ass.