I called for a knight, but you’re a bear
When we speak of the morrow nothing is ever certain.
shy smile and soft words
The frightened child who sheltered in my mance died on the Dothraki Sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. This dragon queen who wears her name is a true Targaryen. The blood of Aegon the Dragon flows in her veins.
The truth is all around you, plain to behold. The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good. Death and life. Everywhere, opposites.
now you are truly lost
“Burn them all,” he kept saying. “Burn them all.”
Their father’s death had been a mercy when it came at last, but even so her brother had taken it hard. Last night in his cups he had broken down and wept, full of regrets for things undone and words unsaid. He ought never to have ridden off to fight his battle on the fords, he told her tearfully; he should have stayed at their father’s bedside. “I should have been with him, as you were,” he said. “Did he speak of me at the end? Tell me true, Cat. Did he ask for me?”
The Great Houses of Westeros ruling the Stormlands, the Reach, the Westerlands, and the Iron Islands.
