I don't know what it is to be good. My lord father was killed because he tried to help the wrong people. I couldn't be like him. A very bad man took me in and taught me how to make people do what I want. I didn't think I had any other way to stay alive and win back my home. I tried not to hurt anyone, but I did anyway. I made the Maester, who is like a doctor, give my cousin more medicine than he thought he should. It was what my foster father wanted. I think he wants my cousin very weak, so he might die without making anyone suspicious. I was to marry his heir, and then I would be lady of the North and the Vale if he died.
If my foster father comes, or anyone else very dangerous, I won't fight them honorably. Even if I killed them, they would only come back, and then people would be frightened of me. People hate what frightens them. I would have to make everyone hate my enemies, instead. I would have to play the game of thrones, and in truth I wouldn't be sorry. It's a lot of fun, so long as you're winning. And that's what frightens me the most.
Well, the Others are also very frightening. We call them White Walkers, sometimes. They're like men made of ice, who can raise the dead, and they hate all that lives. They only seem to want to kill everyone and make them part of their dead army. I don't know what they mean to do with it. My ancestors built a giant wall of ice to keep them out of our lands. I thought they had been dead for many thousands of years, but the Patrons in Trench kept sending me visions of their return. I fear they may be right.
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If my foster father comes, or anyone else very dangerous, I won't fight them honorably. Even if I killed them, they would only come back, and then people would be frightened of me. People hate what frightens them. I would have to make everyone hate my enemies, instead. I would have to play the game of thrones, and in truth I wouldn't be sorry. It's a lot of fun, so long as you're winning. And that's what frightens me the most.
Well, the Others are also very frightening. We call them White Walkers, sometimes. They're like men made of ice, who can raise the dead, and they hate all that lives. They only seem to want to kill everyone and make them part of their dead army. I don't know what they mean to do with it. My ancestors built a giant wall of ice to keep them out of our lands. I thought they had been dead for many thousands of years, but the Patrons in Trench kept sending me visions of their return. I fear they may be right.