“The Mad King was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn’t like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city. Beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. […]”
[Alicia, on being a brown-eyed, brown-haired, olive-skinned Swede] “I always get that question - where are your parents really from? Do you know where your dad’s from? [My parents] are both from very small villages, from up north and south of Sweden. I’m [also] a quarter Finnish, but that doesn’t really make me much darker.”
“I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard
herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go
“Home?” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to
go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out
of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated,
meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.