white horses dashing to their deathbed, clashed and crashed in the castamere. 40,000 miles away from their next race. my life not their gamble, my defect not their rotten trash. love & fame & death, who in the hell is my lion? I ask, to none. love & fame ain’t free, it will demolish your blissful decades. I answer, to none.
[As a Game of Thrones’s devotee, I’d like to devote my write for The Rains Of Castamere]