Cersei Lannister

— We still outnumber them.
— Which is the bigger number — five or one?
— Five.
— Five... One. One army — a real army united behind one leader with one purpose. Our purpose died with the Mad King. Now we've got as many armies as there are men with gold in their purse. And everybody wants something different. Your father wants to own the world. Ned Stark wants to run away and bury his head in the snow.

— What are you doing?
— Praying.
— You're perfect, aren't you? Praying. What are you praying for?
— For the gods to have mercy on us all.
— Oh. On all of us?
— Yes, Your Grace.
— Even me?
— Of course, Your Grace.
— Even Joffrey?
— Joffrey is my...
— Oh, shut up, you little fool. Praying to the gods to have mercy on us all. The gods have no mercy. That's why they're gods. My father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother had just died, you see. I didn't really understand the concept of death, the finality of it. I thought that if I prayed very, very hard, the gods would return my mother to me.

— You should be The Hand of the King.
— That's an honor I can do without. Their days are too long, their lives are too short.

What good is power if you cannot protect the ones you love?

— Well, I tell them no one's special, and they think I'm special for telling them so.
— Perhaps they're right.
— It would be comforting to believe that, wouldn't it?

How can someone so consumed by the idea of his family have any conception what his actual family was doing?

This is what ruling is, lying on a bed of weeds, ripping them out by the root, one by one, before they strangle you in your sleep.

— And that's all the realm is now — backstabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing. Sometimes I don't know what holds it together.
— Our marriage.
— Ah, so here we sit, 17 years later, holding it all together. Don't you get tired?
— Every day.
— How long can hate hold a thing together?
— Well, 17 years is quite a long time.

— You're just a soldier, aren't you? You take your orders and you carry on. I suppose it makes sense. Your older brother was trained to lead and you were trained to follow.
— I was also trained to kill my enemies, Your Grace.

— What was she like?
— You've never asked about her, not once. Why not?
— At first, just saying her name even in private felt like I was breathing life back into her. I thought if I didn't talk about her, she'd just fade away for you. When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I refused to ask out of spite. I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I cared enough to ask. And eventually it became clear
that my spite didn't mean anything to you. As far as l couId tell,
you actually enjoyed it.
— So why now?
— What harm could Lyanna Stark's ghost do to either of us that we haven't done to each other a hundred times over?

Everyone who isn't us... is an enemy.

— Why no shoes?
— Because I gave them away to someone who needed them more. We all do that. It stops us from forgetting what we really are.