That's not funny. Tyrion snorted. There is one king in Westeros. There are flgs and dates and olives growing onthe terraces of her pyramids, and casks of salt fish and smoked meat buried inher cellars.
Dress dark, he'd said, yet under his brown hooded cloak he was wearinghis old surcoat; red and pink horizontal stripes beneath a black chief bearingthree gold crowns, the arms of House Hollard. He wanted you watched, yes, but not harmed. You saved me, sweetling. Was the fletching grey, or white?Ygritte fletched her arrows with pale grey goose feathers.
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