A Reader Lives A Thousand Lives Before

Art Is Not A Democracy. People Don't Get To Vote On How It Ends.

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.

We're All Just Songs In The End. If We Are Lucky.

Mothers." The Man Made A Word Sound Like A Curse. "i Think Birthing Does Something To Your Minds. You Are All Mad.

So Many Vows … They Make You Swear And Swear. Defend The King. Obey The King. Keep His Secrets. Do His Bidding. Your Life For His. But Obey Your Father. Love Your Sister. Protect The Innocent. Defend The Weak. Respect The Gods. Obey The Laws. It’s Too Much. No Matter What You Do, You’re Forsaking One Vow Or Another.