This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Source ISBN: 9780007477159

Ebook Edition © March 2012 ISBN: 9780007482931

Version: 2018-06-20

Table of Contents

Title Page

Maps

Book One: A Game of Thrones

Dedication

Prologue

Bran

Catelyn

Daenerys

Eddard

Jon

Catelyn

Arya

Bran

Tyrion

Jon

Daenerys

Eddard

Tyrion

Catelyn

Sansa

Eddard

Bran

Catelyn

Jon

Eddard

Tyrion

Arya

Daenerys

Bran

Eddard

Jon

Eddard

Catelyn

Sansa

Eddard

Tyrion

Arya

Eddard

Catelyn

Eddard

Daenerys

Bran

Tyrion

Eddard

Catelyn

Jon

Tyrion

Eddard

Sansa

Eddard

Daenerys

Eddard

Jon

Eddard

Arya

Sansa

Jon

Bran

Daenerys

Catelyn

Tyrion

Sansa

Eddard

Catelyn

Jon

Daenerys

Tyrion

Catelyn

Daenerys

Arya

Bran

Sansa

Daenerys

Tyrion

Jon

Catelyn

Daenerys

Appendix

House Baratheon

House Stark

House Lannister

House Arryn

House Tully

House Tyrell

House Greyjoy

House Martell

The Old Dynasty: House Targaryen

Acknowledgments

Book Two: A Clash of Kings

Dedication

Prologue

Arya

Sansa

Tyrion

Bran

Arya

Jon

Catelyn

Tyrion

Arya

Davos

Theon

Daenerys

Jon

Arya

Tyrion

Bran

Tyrion

Sansa

Arya

Tyrion

Bran

Catelyn

Jon

Theon

Tyrion

Arya

Daenerys

Bran

Tyrion

Arya

Catelyn

Sansa

Catelyn

Jon

Bran

Tyrion

Theon

Arya

Catelyn

Daenerys

Tyrion

Davos

Jon

Tyrion

Catelyn

Bran

Arya

Daenerys

Tyrion

Theon

Jon

Sansa

Jon

Tyrion

Catelyn

Theon

Sansa

Davos

Tyrion

Sansa

Tyrion

Sansa

Daenerys

Arya

Sansa

Theon

Tyrion

Jon

Bran

Appendix: The Kings and their Courts

The King on the Iron Throne

The King in Highgarden

The King in the Narrow Sea

The King in the North

The Queen Across the Water

Other Houses Great and Small

House Lannister

House Tyrell

House Martell

House Florent

House Greyjoy

House Arryn

House Frey

The Men of the Night’s Watch

Acknowledgments

Book Three: A Storm of Swords: Part One: Steel and Snow

Dedication

A Note on Chronology

Prologue

Jaime

Catelyn

Arya

Tyrion

Davos

Sansa

Jon

Daenerys

Bran

Davos

Jaime

Tyrion

Arya

Catelyn

Jon

Sansa

Arya

Samwell

Tyrion

Catelyn

Jaime

Arya

Daenerys

Bran

Davos

Jon

Daenerys

Sansa

Arya

Jon

Jaime

Tyrion

Samwell

Arya

Catelyn

Davos

Jaime

Tyrion

Arya

Bran

Jon

Book Three: A Storm of Swords: Part Two: Blood and Gold

Daenerys

Arya

Jaime

Catelyn

Samwell

Arya

Jon

Catelyn

Arya

Catelyn

Arya

Tyrion

Davos

Jon

Bran

Daenerys

Tyrion

Sansa

Tyrion

Sansa

Jaime

Davos

Jon

Arya

Tyrion

Jaime

Sansa

Jon

Tyrion

Daenerys

Jaime

Jon

Arya

Samwell

Jon

Tyrion

Samwell

Jon

Sansa

Epilogue

Appendix: The Kings and their Courts

The King on the Iron Throne

The King in the North the King of the Trident

The King in the Narrow Sea

The Queen Across the Water

King of the Isles and the North

Other Houses Great and Small

House Arryn

House Florent

House Frey

House Lannister

House Martell

House Tully

House Tyrell

Rebels, Rogues, and Sworn Brothers

The Sworn Brothers of the Night’s Watch

The Brotherhood Without Banners an Outlaw Fellowship

The Wildlings, or the Free Folk

Acknowledgments

Book Four: A Feast for Crows

Dedication

Prologue

The Prophet

The Captain of Guards

Cersei

Brienne

Samwell

Arya

Cersei

Jaime

Brienne

Sansa

The Kraken’s Daughter

Cersei

The Soiled Knight

Brienne

Samwell

Jaime

Cersei

The Iron Captain

The Drowned Man

Brienne

The Queenmaker

Arya

Alayne

Cersei

Brienne

Samwell

Jaime

Cersei

The Reaver

Jaime

Brienne

Cersei

Jaime

Cat of the Canals

Samwell

Cersei

Brienne

Jaime

Cersei

The Princess in the Tower

Alayne

Brienne

Cersei

Jaime

Samwell

Meanwhile, Back on the Wall …

Appendix: The Kings and their Courts

The Queen Regent

The King at the Wall

King of the Isles and the North

Other Houses Great and Small

House Arryn

House Florent

House Frey

House Hightower

House Lannister

House Martell

House Stark

House Tully

House Tyrell

Rebels And Rogues

Lordlings, Wanderers, And Common Men

Outlaws And Broken Men

The Sworn Brothers of the Night’s Watch

The Wildlings, or the Free Folk

Beyond the Narrow Sea

The Queen Across the Water

In Braavos

Acknowledgments

Book Five: A Dance with Dragons: Part One: Dreams and Dust

Dedication

A Cavil on Chronology

Prologue

Tyrion

Daenerys

Jon

Bran

Tyrion

The Merchant’s Man

Jon

Tyrion

Davos

Jon

Daenerys

Reek

Bran

Tyrion

Davos

Daenerys

Jon

Tyrion

Davos

Reek

Jon

Tyrion

Daenerys

The Lost Lord

The Windblown

The Wayward Bride

Tyrion

Jon

Davos

Daenerys

Melisandre

Reek

Tyrion

Bran

Jon

Daenerys

The Prince of Winterfell

The Watcher

Jon

Tyrion

Book Five: A Dance with Dragons: Part Two: After the Feast

The Turncloak

The King’s Prize

Daenerys

Jon

The Blind Girl

A Ghost in Winterfell

Tyrion

Jaime

Jon

Daenerys

Theon

Daenerys

Jon

Cersei

The Queensguard

The Iron Suitor

Tyrion

Jon

The Discarded Knight

The Spurned Suitor

The Griffin Reborn

The Sacrifice

Victarion

The Ugly Little Girl

Cersei

Tyrion

The Kingbreaker

The Dragontamer

Jon

The Queen’s Hand

Daenerys

Epilogue

Appendix: The Kings and their Courts

The Boy King

The King at the Wall

King of the Isles and the North

Other Houses Great and Small

House Arryn

House Baratheon

House Frey

House Lannister

House Martell

House Stark

House Tully

House Tyrell

The Sworn Brothers of the Night’s Watch

The Wildlings, or the Free Folk

Beyond the Wall

Essos Beyond the Narrow Sea

In Braavos

In Old Volantis

On Slaver’s Bay

The Queen Across the Water

The Sellswords Men and Women of the Free Companies

Acknowledgments

The Great Game of Thrones Continues …

About the Author

Praise for A Song of Ice and Fire

By George R.R. Martin

About the Publisher

Book One

A GAME OF THRONES

this one is for Melinda

PROLOGUE

“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.”

“Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile.

Gared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no business with the dead.”

“Are they dead?” Royce asked softly. “What proof have we?”

“Will saw them,” Gared said. “If he says they are dead, that’s proof enough for me.”

Will had known they would drag him into the quarrel sooner or later. He wished it had been later rather than sooner. “My mother told me that dead men sing no songs,” he put in.

“My wet nurse said the same thing, Will,” Royce replied. “Never believe anything you hear at a woman’s tit. There are things to be learned even from the dead.” His voice echoed, too loud in the twilit forest.

“We have a long ride before us,” Gared pointed out. “Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.”

Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with disinterest. “It does that every day about this time. Are you unmanned by the dark, Gared?”

Will could see the tightness around Gared’s mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the Night’s Watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilously close to fear.

Will shared his unease. He had been four years on the Wall. The first time he had been sent beyond, all the old stories had come rushing back, and his bowels had turned to water. He had laughed about it afterward. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him.

Until tonight. Something was different tonight. There was an edge to this darkness that made his hackles rise. Nine days they had been riding, north and northwest and then north again, farther and farther from the Wall, hard on the track of a band of wildling raiders. Each day had been worse than the day that had come before it. Today was the worst of all. A cold wind was blowing out of the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things. All day, Will had felt as though something were watching him, something cold and implacable that loved him not. Gared had felt it too. Will wanted nothing so much as to ride hellbent for the safety of the Wall, but that was not a feeling to share with your commander.

Especially not a commander like this one.

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned.

His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin. “Bet he killed them all himself, he did,” Gared told the barracks over wine, “twisted their little heads off, our mighty warrior.” They had all shared the laugh.

It is hard to take orders from a man you laughed at in your cups, Will reflected as he sat shivering atop his garron. Gared must have felt the same.

“Mormont said as we should track them, and we did,” Gared said. “They’re dead. They shan’t trouble us no more. There’s hard riding before us. I don’t like this weather. If it snows, we could be a fortnight getting back, and snow’s the best we can hope for. Ever seen an ice storm, my lord?”

The lordling seemed not to hear him. He studied the deepening twilight in that half-bored, half-distracted way he had. Will had ridden with the knight long enough to understand that it was best not to interrupt him when he looked like that. “Tell me again what you saw, Will. All the details. Leave nothing out.”

Will had been a hunter before he joined the Night’s Watch. Well, a poacher in truth. Mallister freeriders had caught him red-handed in the Mallisters’ own woods, skinning one of the Mallisters’ own bucks, and it had been a choice of putting on the black or losing a hand. No one could move through the woods as silent as Will, and it had not taken the black brothers long to discover his talent.

“The camp is two miles farther on, over that ridge, hard beside a stream,” Will said. “I got close as I dared. There’s eight of them, men and women both. No children I could see. They put up a lean-to against the rock. The snow’s pretty well covered it now, but I could still make it out. No fire burning, but the firepit was still plain as day. No one moving. I watched a long time. No living man ever lay so still.”

“Did you see any blood?”

“Well, no,” Will admitted.

“Did you see any weapons?”

“Some swords, a few bows. One man had an axe. Heavy-looking, double-bladed, a cruel piece of iron. It was on the ground beside him, right by his hand.”

“Did you make note of the position of the bodies?”

Will shrugged. “A couple are sitting up against the rock. Most of them on the ground. Fallen, like.”

“Or sleeping,” Royce suggested.

“Fallen,” Will insisted. “There’s one woman up an ironwood, half-hid in the branches. A far-eyes.” He smiled thinly. “I took care she never saw me. When I got closer, I saw that she wasn’t moving neither.” Despite himself, he shivered.

“You have a chill?” Royce asked.

“Some,” Will muttered. “The wind, m’lord.”

The young knight turned back to his grizzled man-at-arms. Frost-fallen leaves whispered past them, and Royce’s destrier moved restlessly. “What do you think might have killed these men, Gared?” Ser Waymar asked casually. He adjusted the drape of his long sable cloak.

“It was the cold,” Gared said with iron certainty. “I saw men freeze last winter, and the one before, when I was half a boy. Everyone talks about snows forty foot deep, and how the ice wind comes howling out of the north, but the real enemy is the cold. It steals up on you quieter than Will, and at first you shiver and your teeth chatter and you stamp your feet and dream of mulled wine and nice hot fires. It burns, it does. Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don’t have the strength to fight it. It’s easier just to sit down or go to sleep. They say you don’t feel any pain toward the end. First you go weak and drowsy, and everything starts to fade, and then it’s like sinking into a sea of warm milk. Peaceful, like.”

“Such eloquence, Gared,” Ser Waymar observed. “I never suspected you had it in you.”

“I’ve had the cold in me too, lordling.” Gared pulled back his hood, giving Ser Waymar a good long look at the stumps where his ears had been. “Two ears, three toes, and the little finger off my left hand. I got off light. We found my brother frozen at his watch, with a smile on his face.”

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