From there the lord of the castle could look down on his walls and battlements, and beyond, to where the waters met. The hedgehog was crumbling, the northerners reeling back under the impact of the mounted assault. reat Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father's solar, the turret room where he had slept. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.
Whose death, Ser Barristan? The queen's voice was soft as silk, but her words carried the whole length of the hall. I trust you will take good care of him. The king swirled the wine in his cup, brooding. Sansa, of course, had named her pup Lady.
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