As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

Viserys sold my mother's crown, and men called him a beggar. I shall keep this one, so men will call me a queen. (Daenerys)

Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature. -- Lyanna

The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice. So there is magic beyond the Wall after all.

Even the sky was grey. Grey and grey and greyer. The whole world grey, everywhere you look, everything grey except the eyes of the bride. The eyes of the bride were brown. Big and brown and full of fear.

Control your generosity when dealing with a chronic borrower.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli.