snap@da-lulu
im tired and this is a shite blog
@charlie cox fight me
prev. furiosias & suns-baks
You would have me go to war. The whole country would have you go to war. Then we are lucky the whole country does not decide.
Thousands are crossing the sands afoot to climb the Boneway, so they may help Ellaria bring my father home. The septs are packed to bursting, and the red priests have lit their temple fires. In the pillow houses women are coupling with every man who comes to them, and refusing any coin. In Sunspear, on the Broken Arm, along the Greenblood, in the mountains, out in the deep sand, everywhere, everywhere, women tear their hair and men cry out in rage. The same question is heard on every tongue - what will Doran do? What will his brother do to avenge our murdered prince?
Obara Sand, A Feast for Crows
(requested by halemcjoel)
MY FAVOURITE ASOIAF HOUSES → [5/10] » House Nymeros Martell of Sunspear
↳ House Nymeros Martell of Sunspear is one of the Great Houses of Westeros and is the ruling house of Dorne. ‘Nymeros’ indicates “of the line of Nymeria,” but generally it is simply called House Martell. Their seat is Sunspear in southeastern Dorne. The Martells of old used a spear as their emblem, while Nymeria and her Rhoynar used the sun as theirs. When Nymeria wed King Mors Martell, the symbols were combined into a gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field. Their words are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. In appearance they are classic salty Dornishmen, with dark eyes, dark hair in ringlets, and olive skin.
“My brother loved the fight for its own sake, but I only play such games as I can win. Cyvasse is not for me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What is our heart’s desire?”
“Vengeance.” His voice was soft, as if he were afraid that someone might be listening. “Justice.” Prince Doran pressed the onyx dragon into her palm with his swollen, gouty fingers, and whispered, “Fire and blood.”
“I was the oldest,” The prince said, “yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit and they are g o n e .”
