#dickontarly

[Text: Sam’s bf] wrong ‘Tarly’, mate

[Text: Sam’s bf] wait why are you sending these to Sam anyway!?

[Text: Sam’s bf] I didn’t know you two were THAT close

[Text: Sam’s brother] I wasn’t sending them to SAM

[Text: Sam’s brother] I was sending them to SATIN

“I’m sorry about your father.” Brienne stepped fully into the poorly lit room and offered Dickon Tarly a polite half smile. Her sympathy was not for the man that had died, even if in her eyes, no one deserved a fate so harsh. Randyll Tarly had been a bitter hateful man in the time that she had known him. He’d treated her only as well as was required of him in company, and with unveiled disgust when alone. But his son, he’d never done anything ill towards her, and he was not his father. They’d been near to brothers in arms once, perhaps would be again if Jon Snow were able to convince the Targaryen queen to join a different war.

She studied the equally tall man, itched to ask for more detail of the battles he’d been in, but it was neither politely timed, nor a decent subject at present. She knew enough for now. Lady Sansa had received word carried by raven, armies burned and slaughtered, and houses reduced to naught but memory. It seemed that war would never end, though she laid offerings and lit candles on the alter of the Warrior, prayers to be wrong.