Septa Mordane used to crack my knuckles cause I couldn't write as well as you
I remember you, standing on that platform with Joffrey and Cersei when they dragged father to the block. I remember the pretty dress you were wearing. I remember the fancy way you did your hair
I lived with him. I know the way his mind works. I know how he likes to hurt people
Lots of things make me happy, like killing Polliver, killing Rorge
