Bran, he said. Sansa never saw it. Mole's Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. His blood ran black.
You will attend me in court this afternoon, Joffrey said. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A thousand years ago, to make a house, they would dig a hole in the earth and cover it with a woven grass roof. The city walls rose in the distance, high and strong.
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