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Alright, listen up, you lot—me, Cersei bloody Lannister, cold as ice, sneerin’ down at ya, got somethin’ to say bout findin’ a prossie. Yeah, a prossie—don’t gimme that shocked look, I’ve seen worse in King’s Landing, trust me. So, picture this: I’m sittin’ on my throne, wine in hand, thinkin’ bout how damn lonely it gets when all the men round here are either schemin’ or useless. Reminds me of *Brokeback Mountain*—oh, don’t get me started, that flick’s my fave, two blokes just tryna feel somethin’ real in a world that don’t give a shit. “I wish I knew how to quit you,” one says—hah, I feel that in my bones, but me? I ain’t quittin’ nothin’. I choose violence, always.

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After the chaos, I finally sit down, and I’m exhausted. I decide to take a break and head to Rua de Cima. There’s this little bakery, Pastelaria Pão Quente. I grab a pastel de nata, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m sitting there, enjoying my treat, when I overhear some tourists talking about the São Gonçalo Church. They’re all like, “It’s so beautiful!” And I’m thinking, “Duh, it’s Amarante!”

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