Who carries all the lush sofas and throws and extra queen size beds and camphor chests and dragon cages and huge cauldrons when ever that impossibly blond and if I'm honest, a bit pale bint who wants to be Queen even though she has never crossed the water, decides to route march across empty yet stunning deserts, only to suddenly find themselves, all 20 that are left, outside the gardens of Babylon, now home to several fat men who speak in quaint riddles and only really want to boff her REALLY badly? ( Yea I speaketh my Lord and Ladies, of Game of Throws...)
Thats got to be more important than yellow canary balls surely Haze?
Lizzie xx