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The Unforgivable Curses & art illustrations ⚡ more here
Oops, I’m wearing sand shoes.
If we don’t put aside our enmities and band together, we will die. And then it doesn’t matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne.
“Ser Jaime?” Even in soiled pink satin and torn lace, Brienne looked more like a man in a gown than a proper woman. “I am grateful, but…you were well away. Why come back?” A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. “I dreamed of you,” he said.