Are those intermingled with so much Westerosi blood really his kin, in any ways besides the technical? No matter how strong the magic of their line, there is more mongrel in them than Targaryen. More of the people who made the Lannisters, and produced this man, cracking at every edge and waiting to shatter.
Westeros has not changed. Perhaps nothing will make it.
"Valyrians live in a post-apocalyptic world, amongst people who hate us. I will give my life to buy more years for my children from our lost gods. Of course I wish to know their, our fate, for as far as I can uncover it."
Fourteen fires. The hypocritical barbarians have half the gods, what use could they ever be? Caraxes shifts and passes over the cave entrance, his long body casting dark, then light shadows, the large fork of his tail like spears; he makes sounds like a great flint trying to spark as he stretches and finds a new comfortable position on the sand.
After a moment—
"My grandmother was beloved by the north. She spent long months there in the cold dark, hosting tourneys with wildling women and thawing the Stark warden. She sold her jewels to Braavos to build the men of the Watch a better castle because the Nightfort disturbed her so. Her dragon would not fly past the Wall."
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Are those intermingled with so much Westerosi blood really his kin, in any ways besides the technical? No matter how strong the magic of their line, there is more mongrel in them than Targaryen. More of the people who made the Lannisters, and produced this man, cracking at every edge and waiting to shatter.
Westeros has not changed. Perhaps nothing will make it.
"Valyrians live in a post-apocalyptic world, amongst people who hate us. I will give my life to buy more years for my children from our lost gods. Of course I wish to know their, our fate, for as far as I can uncover it."
Fourteen fires. The hypocritical barbarians have half the gods, what use could they ever be? Caraxes shifts and passes over the cave entrance, his long body casting dark, then light shadows, the large fork of his tail like spears; he makes sounds like a great flint trying to spark as he stretches and finds a new comfortable position on the sand.
After a moment—
"My grandmother was beloved by the north. She spent long months there in the cold dark, hosting tourneys with wildling women and thawing the Stark warden. She sold her jewels to Braavos to build the men of the Watch a better castle because the Nightfort disturbed her so. Her dragon would not fly past the Wall."
Interesting.