
(Source: prettylittlekeegan)
He was angry at the king for something, I can’t remember. When the king was visiting the Nightfort, the cook killed the king’s son, cooked him into a big pie with onions, carrots, mushrooms and bacon. That night, he served the pie to the king. He liked the taste of his son so much, he asked for a second slice.
The gods turned the cook into a giant white rat who could only eat his own young. He’s been roaming the Nightfort even since, devouring his own babies. No matter what he does, he’s always hungry.
It wasn’t for murder that the gods cursed the rat cook, or for serving the king’s son in a pie.
(Source: feu-follet)
“Mhysa!” they called. “Mhysa! MHYSA!” They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. “Maela,” some called her, while others cried “Aelalla” or “Qathei” or “Tato,” but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother.”
(Source: orgasticgatsby)

(Source: wherethehellareyounow)