butchu

lorrrhd shnoe. yewll be foighten their baulles forevear - Ser Allister Throne, moments before his hanging

all animals r important
this is becauz
in gods choir
would they not sing too?

So sei denn unser Gelöbnis an diesem Abend, in jeder Stunde, an jedem Tag nur zu denken an Serige, ans Volk und ans Svearike, an unsere schwedische Nation. Unser schwedisches Volk: Segra Sverige! Segra Sverige! Segra Sverige!?

you are a bastard.

a dau'er ♥♥♥♥♥♥'

wildling

bastard

So when they had finished, Ned rolled off and climbed from her bed, as he had a thousand times before. He crossed the room, pulled back the heavy tapestries, and threw open the high narrow windows one by one, letting the night air into the chamber.

The wind swirled around him as he stood facing the dark, ♥♥♥♥♥ and empty-handed. Catelyn pulled the furs to her chin and watched him. He looked somehow smaller and more vulnerable, like the youth she had wed in the sept at Riverrun, fifteen long years gone. Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache. She could feel his seed within her. She prayed that it might quicken there. It had been three years since Rickon. She was not too old. She could give him another son.

You're one out of the half-dozen turks that are normal, good job