KhepriRa



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  1. Rec 25

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    He recognized that panicked face and that height and even his son’s pleading look. Ser Duncan. Who was probably not named Duncan, and definitely not a Ser. But he couldn’t throw the girl out, not now she had brought his son back, and not now … well. It would be unchivalrous.

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    13 Aug 2026

  2. Rec 33

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    Daeron's eyes were pleading, searching for a way out, but his mouth said, "Lord Ormund has taught me well. He, and the Seven Above, would not lead me astray. And you have—sinned," he added, and looked like he wanted to hang himself for saying it. "Sinners must be punished."

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    07 Aug 2026

  3. Rec 12

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    “Fret not. I will do this for you, cousin,” Ormund said calmly, as if it were normal, as if he were in any way sane. “You’ve been working so hard.”

    Shame curled in the pit of Gwayne’s belly, as he realised that he was going to do what Ormund asked no matter the mortification. Fawning, he’d accused Daeron of. But it was Gwayne who fawned now.

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    07 Aug 2026

  4. Rec 68

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    They have thrown the man into the patch of light. He wears dark clothes. Plain. No rings. He has a beard, dark hair. He is in pain, eyes shut tight with it. He's beautiful, or maybe it's been too long since Dunk saw another human who wasn't about to punch him for him to judge beauty properly. Dunk crouches down, touches his shoulder gently. He'd ask if the man was alright, but he isn't.

    “My name's Dunk,” he says quietly instead, still touching the man. “There's a loose stone, three up from the ground, and there's a rat that's good to talk to. Sorry you're here.”

    When Ser Arlan fights for the Crown at Starpike Castle, his squire, Dunk, manages to get himself thrown in a cell by Lord Peake's men. He might have lost track of the days, but he knows one thing: his cellmate is worth protecting with everything he has.

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    03 Jul 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “As in, there is one future where the White Walkers are defeated immediately, the Long Night is merely a passing shadow and we are spared most of the senseless deaths that came upon Westeros since Ned Stark died. But it’s not a future I can try to turn into a reality,” Bran says with a long sigh.

    “What – what do you mean?” Lord Connington doesn’t sound too convinced, but he’s listening intently, or so it seems from the frown on his face.

    “That in order for us all to live, Aerys Targaryen must die not sooner and not later than he did, but Rhaegar must live,” Bran says tiredly, “along with Elia Martell and her children. Whether Lyanna Stark does or not is irrelevant, as long as all three children live and know they are the heads of the dragon. It’s no job for someone like me – I can only walk if I visit the past or the future, not if I want to live in it. How useless it is that one has such powers but then cannot even walk, isn’t it?”

    “You – you mean to – send us to the past?” Brienne asks, barely audible.

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    01 Jan 2019