Their cloaks hung almost to the ground, the heavy wool dyed a rich gold; their mail and boots and gloves were black. Ned could not let that happen again. Fire, she thought, and then, Bran! Help me, she said urgently, sitting up. That little task you set me is accomplished, Lord Eddard.
My brother Jaime will be wondering what has become of me. What is the meaning of this? This is the Hand of the King. He looked bored. He is! Sansa insisted.
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