I don’t know what message to send to Bran. Help him Tyrion.”“What help could I give him? I am no maester, to ease his pain. I have no spell to give hi...
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Well, the drums gave me headaches, the sunlight flashing on my armor cooked me up like harvest day, and those magnificent destriers shit everywhere.
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But words in a book were one thing. The true test came in battle.
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A shy smile, strong arms, clever fingers, and two sure swords. What more could any woman want?
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Words are wind, and the wind from Manderly's mouth means no more than the wind escaping his bottom.
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Words are wind.
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Words are like arrows, Arianne. Once loosed, you cannot call them back.
